Fallout: Tales from the Commonwealth
by Shinsou808
Summary: Fallout 3 AU: Todd and Megan are two vault dwellers that find themselves in the wastes of the Commonwealth. However, the inhabitants of a devastated Massachusetts will do everything to stand in their way. Re-rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter One: Vault 111

**FALLOUT: TALES FROM THE COMMONWEALTH  
**

**By: Shinsou808 (or 'Shin,' whatever works)**

**Formerly known as: Fallout: Red Sun  
**

**A/N:** This is going to take up a bit so please stay with me here. I have played Fallout 3 three times: once normally, once to just bust through the main quest, and one which is just for the pure love of exploring, sidequests, killing things, plugging in mods, experimenting, and other fun mindless things which I don't plan to complete. I have completed all of the DLC and have nearly exhausted my hard drive with all the mods out there. While I have done my best to familiarize myself with the Fallout 1 and Fallout 2 universe, I have not played the games.

This story is inspired by, but will not strictly follow the main quest and/or sidequests of Fallout 3. It uses a similar starting formula, but it will diverge from that. If you haven't read the summary, this place in a Fallout-ridden Massachusetts, or as known in the Fallout 3 universe, the Commonwealth. If you are looking for a ghoul slash, Butch slash, or Amata slash fiction, I will save you the trouble, this does not contain any of that sort.

**Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, my characters and storyline, and other trademarks, references and characters that may be featured in this story. **

* * *

_"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both_" -_Benjamin Franklin_

**Chapter 1: Vault 111**

_Kenmore Square, Boston, The Commonwealth_

It was a dark and chilly night where I was at, perched overlooking the streets of Boston. The streets were eerily quiet without the noise of cars and people mulling around doing their business; I'm guessing those cars haven't moved in decades. The grungy CITGO sign with its reddish triangle imposed over the lifeless square, a forgotten beacon of a golden age gone by, like much of the city. I have been through so much to get here but now, I don't know what to do. It was so goddamn clear back then, when my objectives were so concrete and simple. The dirty nautical colored walls hardly calmed me down, more like reminding me of how lost I was. There was nothing to light up the sky.

I nearly jumped at the twangs of banjos and guitars that suddenly played over the record player. Scared the shit out of me.

_Let me tell you the story  
Of a man named Charlie  
On a tragic and fateful day  
He put ten cents in his pocket,  
Kissed his wife and family  
Went to ride on the MTA_

_Did he ever return,  
No he never returned  
And his fate is still unlearn'd  
He may ride forever  
'neath the streets of Boston  
He's the man who never returned._

It shorted out thankfully, cutting the rest of the song out. More importantly, it didn't wake up the person that was resting in my arms. Like me, she had a terrible day to say the least. I rested my chin on her head and gently stroked her back, ignoring the small stain of sweat and tears she left on my clothes. A mix of emotions flooded throughout me but the most resonating one was that someone had to pay. I didn't know who or how, but it would have to be done. Would it have to be the Overseer and his son for making my life miserable? Would it be my dad who made my life infinitely more complicated? Or would it be myself for being so stupid enough to drag myself and her out of the Vaults whose sole job was to keep us safe?

I tried reflecting in a simpler time. Where the only concern was the daily grind...

* * *

_Three years ago, Vault 111_

"Beautiful music, dangerous rhythm…" came from the mangled, but functional radio in my home, Vault 111, which from my understanding, has been sealed since anyone can remember, in a place no one knows, or cares to remember. Ours was supposed to be the "control" vault where the "control" aspect of it seemed to be a recurring theme. Sorry for not introducing myself there, name's Todd. I'm not the strongest nor the smartest, but I think I've survived Vault life alright. I haven't gotten to the point of "cabin fever" as the adults and old-hags love to call it, they say I must be one of the lucky ones. Some of the other people who lived here before lost their minds or some shit like that.

"Dad! Turn that crap off!" I yelled from my room. All we have are records from the 1950's as music. Astonishingly, after 200+ years in a sealed and controlled environment, they still play! How about that! Sure they're scratched as hell, but at least they still play. Maybe Frank Sinatra's voice sounded better than a ragged harmonica, but I wouldn't know the difference.

I let my eyes wander over the last few pages of Ayn Rand's _The Fountainhead_, my present for my 10th birthday. Sometimes I'd wish I had a pistol or something like that, but that overseer's got a stick high up his ass. Nope, not even a BB gun. That's what the Overseer got his son for his damn 10th birthday, out from the middle of nowhere, heaven maybe. That spoiled bastard. I never got any special boys toys for any of my birthdays. My stupid, once in a goddamn lifetime G.O.A.T is in about a half-hour. I feel a bit nervous, but nonetheless irritated that we have to take that stupid test. It does not help that stupid song is still playing.

I marched into the living room, walked over where my optometrist-turned-medic father sat on the worn out couch, and promptly turned off the radio.

"You don't like music, sport?" he asked.

"Not when it's the same crap every day." I quickly replied, ruffling my black hair back. "Isn't there something different?"

"You know you got a GOAT to in a while right?" he asked, quickly straightening up.

"I know!" I took my jacket and walked out the door. As always, he changes the subject.

"Good luck!" he said. Though I think it didn't matter anyway. It just determined the field for the rest of the monotony inside here right?

The classroom was only maybe a two minute walk from my room. Snaking across the sterile, metal floor could get me to that stupid place on time. When I got there, Evan's gang, the Sewer Rats were there. Dorky name if you ask me, they keep saying they got the inspiration from some group from Washington DC. A sorry excuse for a bunch of punks with a damn sense of entitlement running around this place. Evan is the overseer's son. he could get away with whatever crap the gang pulls out. Just complain to his dad and it's like it never even happened, evidence and all. As usual, they're up to their bullcrap, again. They give us enough grief already, like we need to kiss ass for them to gain "protection" from their cockiness.

"C'mon guys, let me through!" I hear a voice. Knowing them, they like to pick on the vice-overseer's daughter, Megan. I've never interacted with vice-overseer at all during my life here but I've known her since we were little, like everyone else has unfortunately. She's a good friend nonetheless.

"Nope, Meggie, you owe us caps," Evan smirked. God, he's a jerk. Thinks he's so badass with his spiky blond hair, blue eyes, and being the overseer's damn son. Too bad he's stupid as a pole and as vain as his dad.

"Since when do I owe you caps??" Megan demanded, her green eyes staring at Evan. Since all the pre-war money has been ground to dust by our fingers for 200 years, we're so ghetto we have to resort to Nuka-Cola bottle caps! What a novel idea.

"Since today, I'm afraid," he frowned a bit. "Chargin' a toll; and besides, that test is a load of bull anyway."

"I don't have any caps on me right now. Can't this crap wait?" Megan pleaded. Enough observing for me, this is stupid.

"C'mon Evan," I tried to reason with him. "She's got none and she can probably pay you back later. Just let her through."

"Oh, look who it is," he turned around and sneered at me. "This your boyfriend, Meggie?" he grinned maniacally. "I thought you'd always want to go out with me, make things much easier than complainin' to your dad."

"Who'd want to go out with a person who's got a 10 foot pole stuck up their ass?" I came up with best comeback I could, at least that got his attention. "Candy-ass punk," I told to his face.

"What did you call me, bitch?" he demanded.

"You heard me, asswipe," I yawned, turned and walked the other way. Evan was always terrible at hiding his emotions. His knuckles sharply crackled through the hallway, his heavy panting echoed in my ears. Even if I had my back turned on him, there was no doubt in my mind that I had won an easy argument.

I heard footsteps stomping the metal floor; starting slow then quickly gaining in speed. The stomping of the feet was getting closer, closer. At the right moment, I turned around and sent my curled left hand straight into his jaw. Okay, it was weaker than I normally would; I could say that. If I was ever arrested, I could pull the "self-defense" reasoning out of my buttocks for a defense. Not that it would matter anyway. This place is a seriously screwed up dictatorship.

Evan stumbled back, nearly falling over his right foot. Pathetic, utterly pathetic. I was certain I'd have to fight in a 3 on 1 slugfest today. Apparently not. As the two cronies beside him were scrambling to his aid, Megan stood there dazed. She couldn't have been_ that _shocked. Stupid teenage fights happen everywhere, right? I cracked my knuckles, noticing a bit of red spots on them, probably a bit of blood. It was not too bad, I could get away with it with a little ice on it and say I cut myself on the floor's metal edges.

"I'll get you for that, bitch!" Evan managed to croak out.

"You'll what?" I couldn't believe it. What the hell is he thinking? "Patrick, Miles," they immediately looked up. "Drag his ass to the clinic; tell Doc I'll foot the bill. Now get out of my sight."

Patrick and Miles immediately complied to my surprise, I could hear Evan's ass being bumped on the numerous bulkheads on the way with him yelling challenges and threats. I couldn't believe they'd actually obey me. I was expecting a "Fuck you!" and three guys charging me. Oh well, at least its resolved, peacefully or otherwise.

"Thanks for getting rid of them," Megan said. "Assholes."

"No problem," I shrugged my shoulders. "Didn't you take the vault self defense class?"

"I did," Megan looked away. "But-"

"But what?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know what to do," she confessed.

"That's alright. That's why you fall back on your training. Don't worry about it." I reassured her.

"I know that, Todd."

"Then, is that the only thing you remember from training?" I cracked a small smile.

"Oh, shut up." Megan pouted. "Anyway, we have a GOAT to take, did you study?"

"Of course not," I put my hands in my pockets. "It's very short, like most of the stupid tests they crap out their asses. Maybe I should get a Nuka-cola afterward," I said as I turned toward the classroom.

"Typical," Megan commented. I could see her brown hair shaking with her head. It's kind of fun getting on her nerves. The two of us went into the classroom, not concerned about what kind of future the vault provides.

The classroom was nothing much to remark about. It had 20 chairs arranged in a Five by Four grid. It was definitely not well lit; I always found the cheapo lighting too dim for my liking. It was like studying in a bleeding theater with its lights turned down. The seats were not much better. It was like they were bolted into the floor, expecting not to move in a million years. They weren't made to be comfortable, being made by the lowest bidder chosen by whoever made this oversized nuclear bunker. We'd use this classroom for what little education material they could teach us in pre-war material. Not that I ever listened very much to what kind of crap they were teaching us anyways.

I took my usual seat at the back of the classroom while Megan tried to take a different approach and went a little closer to the projection screen that had "GOAT, Generalized Occupation Aptitude Test" and a little kid riding an abnormally sized goat. I don't know how it'd affect the scores to begin with. Looking down, I found an equally worthless mechanical pencil and a booklet that said "GOAT. DO NOT OPEN UNLESS INSTRUCTED"

Hmph, maybe they should write "JACKASS" on the cover for good measure. I could only with our proctor was not a robot; they were the worst. The only robots we got were antiquated, stupid, bumbling, pieces of trash only designed to spit words out and simple household tasks around the vault. They would be infinitely more useful if they were melted down and converted into guns we could shoot each other with! I wouldn't mind that.

A chime snapped me out of my thoughts as our proctor, 1WMMD, a Protectron robot from the glory days of pre-post-apocalyptic ass-fucking, clumsily walked in and to the front of the classroom, creaking along with every step it took. Yeah, I knew it. This was going to be a long test. I rested my head on the equally dull and metallic desk. This was not going to be fun at all, like babysitting a screaming baby at a bingo game in the Vault. It's yellow light flashed on its head as the door closed behind me. It was going to start soon and I had to look like I was alive and enthusiastic.

"On your desk," he recited in his overly dull monotone drawl. "Is Vault Tech form 4628, General Occupational Aptitude Test. It should specify that in the top right hand corner. If it does not say that, please notify your proctor immediately."

I didn't need to check. I had enough of a short term memory to process that.

"If you have taken the General Occupational Aptitude Test before, please be aware that this score overrides your previous one and it must be submitted to the overseer by close-of-business today."

Uh-huh. Really? If I remember correctly, they were closed for training for a good chunk of today.

"You may now open your booklets. The test begins after I finish reading the first question."

"Question 1," It began. Sneaking a peek back, I noticed that the Overseer's son was fashionably missing, in no small part to the punch I threw a while ago. That dumbass missed probably the most important test of his shitty life! This was perfect! "You work for a vault scientist who refutes your results with the phrase 'I reject your reality and substitute my own!' How do you respond?"

Squinting at the test booklet, I circled A. "Am I missing... an eyebrow?"

"Question 2," Christ, I don't know how a robot got the job of monitoring us like kids. "While working as an intern for the R&R department, you happen to stumble upon two rabbits producing offspring at an alarming rate. You cannot find your immediate supervisor, what do you do?"

D. Sit and stare, while chanting "Mine are eating their own poo." They'll die from eating their feces anyway.

"Question 3," sigh..., "You happen to find a Vault user overextending their computer privileges. You know it is a detriment to the cooperative and hard working socialist environment of the vault. What do you do?"

B. Scream "LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROY JENKIIIIIIIIIIINS!!!!" at the top of your lungs the Vault user's ears.

"Question 4. You have been ordered to restructure the entire bureaucracy of the Vault via the orders that delegate social democracy. What is your first task?"

C. Harden the fucking vault up

"Question 5. Oh no, an abrupt power failure has disabled the hydraulic holding mechanism on the vault doors! You are stuck in a bathroom, and can't get out. What do you do?"

A. Say, "I splashed my tights," while banging on the door.

"Question 6. Congratulations, you have been accepted in the ranks of the vault security team, the best defenders of Vault socialist democracy! What role would suit you best?"

D. The guy who does nothing, and is proud of it.

"Question 7. An unknown creature somehow burrows its way into the vault compounds and triggers a Code: Victor Charlie. What do you do?"

C. A little "pew-pew", "bang-bang", and "boom-boom" never hurt anyone.

"Question 8," I can't stand it, when is this over!? "Pull my finger."

B. You have 11110100001001000000/1 - 1 Fingers, you fail hard.

"Question 9," Wow, did a virus infect the poor bastard? "Your neighbor has your copy of '_Possum!'_ which he hasn't returned in some time. You want it back, What is the best way to repossess it?"

D. Light a bunch of firecrackers near the computer. That will definitely get his attention.

"Question 10, Who is undeniably our Lord, Master and most Dear Leader, infallible and all knowing, great and meek, revered and loved by the glorious people of the vault. The one who provides great freedom against the imperialist fascists of the outside, the scourge that would dare oppose the Dear Leader and self-reliance, and who will be with in the vestiges of time, space, and the boundless pure land of the righteous and free?"

I couldn't believe he could spit that out all at once. Oh wait, he is a robot. He could spit that out a million times if he had to.

Actually choosing an answer was irrelevant, they all have "The Overseer" mixed in with random words everywhere to make it look unique.

"Pencils down everyone," the lifeless voice reverberated throughout the metal classroom. "GOAT Testing, completed. Please close your testbooks and leave them on the desk. The results will be mailed out to you later though inter-vault communications channels. You are free to leave."

I was more than happy to leave, I didn't care what I was going to be doing anyway. I was born and raised in this vault, and I'm sure as hell I was going to die in it. It would be the same from the the day I started my first job until I "retire" from my job some 40 or 50 odd years later, no happier than I first started. That sadistic test was probably going to assign me to something moronic, dull, or a job that I hated.

Those thoughts didn't leave me as I went down the mess kitchen to get my daily ration of food and take it back to my quarters. I'd actually eat more of it if it didn't taste like overly processed chicken nuggets. I certainly hated the fact that they called it "Victory Food"! Victory food my fat victory ass! That was definitely the biggest lie in the entire Vault, making us believe that the food we ate actually made a difference. The worst part about it that there were no condiments except a whole lot of processed water to make taste better. Mmm, I love processed water.

I lazily pressed my thumb in the Vault's primitive fingerprint recognition device, letting me back into my gray metal cubbyhole I called home. It certainly wasn't much, but it was better than sleeping out in the hallways. I'd wish we had our own bathrooms. I hated the shower schedules sometimes, both the time and the duration. One time it assigned me late at night, when all the hot water was gone and the water pressure was low. It was just stupid.

"Back already?" I heard my dad call from his desk. "What did you get? Did you pass?"

"No!" I yelled a bit, loud enough so that my dad could hear. "I'm sure I didn't! They said they'd send it out later."

"Why not?"

"How the hell should I know?" I sarcastically responded. "They never tell us!"

I plopped down on the lime green couch, one of the few non-metal vault furniture we could personally own when its previous owner died of mysterious circumstances. It must have been re-upholstered a couple times and it lost its firmness over the years. But I never knew what a firm couch felt like, so it was fine by me. I was keen on relishing my two days off. Two days of just... nothing! No more classes, no more of dealing with the crap of pre-war books, Hah! I was eager to savor the pleasure of relaxation, free from commitment, at least for now. Then I'd probably be stuck in a job I hate, but would be proclaimed by the overseer as "vitally important to the freedom and security" of the Vault. Up his.

My mind began to wander as I looked aimlessly out the the glass window. What was it like out of this place? Was there anything better? I had a feeling that I wasn't really connected to this stale place, like it was too limiting. Comfortably limiting, like this couch I was laying on. Like how I couldn't comfortably lie down without resting my feet up on the side.

My daydreaming was rudely interrupted by the buzzer telling me someone was waiting outside the door.

"Coming!" I irritatingly groaned. I hoped it wasn't one of those Vault security guards knocking on our door every so often to make sure nothing was wrong. Seriously, what's the possibility of something that could go wrong in the vault? It's nearly impossible to start a fire here!

I activated the Vault's hydraulic door to see who was actually there.

"Oh, hey Megan. 'The hell you doing here?" I said casually, feinting my surprise. Wait..." I think I had the answer. "Lemme guess. Your dad's busy again fixing all the crap the overseer screws up, am I right?"

"Yes, Todd," Megan scowled, crossing her arms. "Including the GOAT results."

"What do you mean?" I implored.

"The results are going to be posted in the ADMIN section-"

"I don't get it," I scratched my head. "Why are you telling me this? It hasn't even been announced yet-"

"It's just because you saved my ass earlier," she shrugged. She didn't have to, but I guess she had a point.

"Whatever you say," I replied, knowing where to go since that stupid ass wouldn't give us our results to our residences. Besides, I was at least eager enough to find out what kind of hell I was going to work to. I turned my head back a bit, "You can chill here if you want..."

I didn't know it then, but my life was about to change. This place would turn upside down...

And the two of us would be in the middle of it in a struggle for accessing the outside world...

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	2. Chapter Two: Freedom Waits

"_Anything you do can get you killed, including nothing." –Unknown. _

**Chapter 2: Freedom Waits**

_Three Years Later, Vault 111  
_

Megan's Point of View:

I yawned as the door yanked open to let me out. Finally, a well deserved break from my job the GOAT had to place me in. "Communications specialist" was it? I don't remember the actual title of it anyway, it went something like that. All I knew was that my voice was used for some of the Vault's PA system. It was weird, listening to my own voice sometimes during the public announcements. Everyone didn't seem to notice when I messed up in my presentations except me. Why was that? Everyone thinks I'm the best suited for this job, but I'm the only one that disagrees wholeheartedly. I wanted something a little more, exciting. Sure my job was steady but, what else was there to it?

I intended to relax, read some more of those shoujo manga that the Vault somehow managed to acquire and wound up in my possession. Too bad it looked like chicken scratch; I couldn't understand a single word of it. I entertained myself just by filling in the blanks and using my imagination. What was it called? Fanfiction? Something like that. Sure I had a job and a few friends, Todd being one of them, but I was content enough in my own little world, before reality spoiled it. My stomach was growling a bit, was there anything to eat in the fridge?

"Dad!" I called out. "Is there anything in the fridge?"

I got no response. "Dad?" I looked in his room and saw the pool of blood. "Oh my God..." I stood there in shock. My father's face was slumped over the keyboard, his glasses were smashed on the floor, and the blood splatter was all over the lifeless walls. I closed my eyes, not wanting to believe the sight in front of me. He couldn't be dead, he was fine when I talked to him this morning before I left for work. No...

"SECURITY, ANYBODY, HELP!! MURDER!!" I screamed, bizarrely still staying there. If anyone tried to sneak up on me, honestly, I wouldn't have heard it coming. If the assailant was nearby and he saw me, I would've been dead too. Speaking of which, is he here too?

I heard boots approaching my quarters though, and then it stopped. Why did it stop? That was really strange. Why would the fearless security force's boots stop? I hid under the metal bed in panic. Was it maybe for some small perceived sense of protection? I'd never do that normally though but why was I feeling this way?

"Go search the other rooms, she should still be in here," I heard one of them say. 'She?' No wait, me? What the hell did I have to do with this? I didn't have anything connecting me to this except only that I was his daughter and that I happened to stumble on his dead body. We're they going to arrest me? But why though? Why arrest me? I thought I'd hear a much more friendlier response from them of all people. Are these people that the entire Vault population trusts their lives with that soulless?

"Sir, she's not here."

"Look harder!" I heard the superior bark. "She cannot be far. Where's her workplace? Look there too!"

He was cut off by the Vault's emergency system. "Code: Victor Charlie. I repeat this is Code: Victor Charlie. Vault Compromised in section Alpha Niner. All security personnel report to section Alpha Niner. Code: Victor Charlie."

"Alright guys," I heard him grumble. "You heard the VES, clear out. We can sort this one later. That bitch will pop up sooner or later."

I saw them exiting my quarters out of the corner of my eye. One of my fears was one of them would suddenly peek his head under the bed and say "peek-a-boo!" in an oddly psychotic manner and I'd be scared to death for some shits and giggles. After waiting a few moments in case any stragglers decided to stick around for a while, I tried to ease myself through the gap between my bed and the floor. My vault suit squeaked on the bare metal floor as I squirmed out of my hiding place. Why were they in such a mad rush to kill him? And me?

I tried moving his corpse to get a better look at the computer at the computer screen. I wanted to shriek at the thump of his body but I instinctively cupped my hand over my mouth. If I had screamed that would be the end of it all. Are the Vault out of its fucking mind? My dad's e-mail seemed to answer my questions.

_As you may realized oh-so-long-ago, Overseer, you're a fraud. _It began in a droopingly sarcastic and scathing tone. _Of course, I'm handling all the crap that comes up to my desk from your retarded approach to the chain-of-command and quite frankly, I should be the overseer. The only thing you're doing so well is letting your son run around and making the vault deplore his buffoonery. I don't know what you'll want to achieve in going after Todd or Spencer, but you're nuts. Spencer is completely innocent, Todd more so. There's a __request of __authorization of use of deadly force on my desk but I'm guessing you expect me to use it as a place mat or a paperweight.  
_

_And no, my daughter is not interested in your son, she talked to me and said it's final. I was going to file a restraining order but I think the both of us know how insignificant it means with your hands dabbling in the security forces...  
_

_Long letter short, I officially declare my vote of no confidence. _

It was never sent. The Vault didn't notice he was shot or probably was told not to notice. I made a painful choice, I had to save Todd from experiencing the needless death of my father by an Overseer's lust for power. Having enough of the lies, I wanted to get out of this place. There must be grass on the other side compared to here, where grass would never grow in the first place. Every step of the way could mean certain death, all for a prize that seemed fleeting at best. I was thinking about yanking Todd out of his bed or mourning the senseless death of my dad, but I could do neither. I'd hope I would never have to return to this place again, I had to be armed, I had to stay alive. That thought constantly nagged me as I sneaked toward the Vault's armory. I didn't know anything outside of here; this Vault could be inside a mountain, on an island, or even at the bottom of the ocean.

Amazingly, every Vault security guard must have been tasked with handling the code Victor Charlie as the halls were devoid of them. Incredibly, their armory doors were wide open, beckoning anyone to come and take whatever dangerous toys were stored inside there. It was that big of a problem. The rumors flowed that they stored assault rifles in there but who really needed them? Two N99 standard-issue pistols and a couple magazines of 10mm ammo would do just nicely. That should be plenty to make a daring escape. Oh, and a few flashbang grenades; not knowing when they'd come in handy but I grabbed them anyway.

For Todd though, he's going to be in for one hell of a nasty shock. When I got to his quarters I caught him napping on the old green sofa, blissfully unaware of everything going outside his doorstep. I put on the best stoic face I could, pushing the grief and sadness away as best as I could manage, if only for a moment. I took a deep breath in and out, trying to mentally prepare for the task at hand. It wouldn't help much honestly but I needed every source of mental strength I could muster.

I wondered what Todd's reaction to all of this crap would be.

* * *

Todd's Point of View:

I felt someone shaking my shoulder "Todd, it's me. Wake up! Todd!"

How long have I been asleep? Is there such thing as a light switch? The Vault's lights are on all the time. The glare and the brightness filled my eyes, being slowly replaced by the figure of Megan looking over me. Woah, where did she come from? But yeah, count on her to ruin a perfectly well deserved nap. I needed it, why couldn't she understand that at least?

"Come on Todd! You've got to wake up!" she said extremely worryingly, almost to the point of panic.

"I'm up. I'm up," I yawned and tried to loosen up as best I could. "What was that for? Lemme get back to sleep!"

"No! This is serious!" she exclaimed like she was ready to throw something at me.

"Alright, alright… what is it?!" I was getting irritated. How serious could it be? It's not like the Vault is on fire, there's no infestation, no one has gone psychotic, no one has left, and this place isn't hell. It's a dull and barely manageable hole in the middle of who knows where, but it isn't hell, at least not yet.

"The overseer's gone nuts since your father left the vault–"

"Wait, what?" I said astoundingly. My father leaving the Vault? That son of a bitch overseer and his damn son wouldn't dare let anybody out the vault. "How the hell did he get out? That's impossible-"

"Apparently not. There must be a secret tunnel out of here," she pondered, crossing her arms and thinking deeply. "The only problem is that there could be hundreds of secret tunnels," she thought out loud. I stood up and walked toward the door. "Where the hell are you going?" she demanded, looking at me with her cross eyes.

"Finding him of course," I replied as the door clamored open. "I just need to– Shit!" I exclaimed as a 10mm bullet zipped past my head. What the hell? Sure, I'm his son, but I don't know how he got out. That thought was quickly forgotten as I felt someone nearly choking me to death with my suit to pull my body back in. That metal door quickly slammed down soon after that little brush with death. I had never been so scared in my life; the adrenaline was definitely flowing throughout my body.

"Oh yeah, the security force has us targeted," she growled, giving me a feeling I owed her for that. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I'd wish I could sympathize more, but we've gotta get out of here. I've got a plan," she said with the look of uneasy determination.

"I never trust your plans."

"You've got to now," she sighed. "Take these, I nicked them from the armory," she said as she handed me a N99 10mm pistol with two magazines. I think it was around 20 rounds.

"Grab your gear. We'll take care of the guards outside here first, then split up and meet at the overseers office, got it?" she said as quickly as she could, barely understanding her over the ricocheting bullets being fired at the steel door.

"Got it," I huffed, still trying to catch my breath.

"Grab your stuff!" she ordered. I quickly busted open my first aid container that bolted to the wall, making sure to grab a few kits as well as a few small medical tools that could be handy later on. Grabbing the baseball bat was a good idea, in case my ammo ran out. The rest I'd have to leave behind sadly, I wouldn't want to be killed while dragging all of my childhood memories out of here.

"Ready!" I roared. Immediately, she threw one of the flashbang grenades she had with her out the window, dazing anybody that happened to be in the hallway.

The door opened quickly, I saw two officers stumbling and obviously still recovering from the shock of being blinded and having their ears blown out at the same time. They were being ordered to carry out something they probably didn't want to do but I had no choice, they had to be shot. It was painful to say the least. If I didn't have that much adrenaline, I would have been paralyzed in shock.

Time seemed to slow down at that moment when I brought the N99 pistol up and aimed it at the officers. Forcing my finger to pull that trigger, I could not reflect nor empathize in that painful moment. Blood streamed out of any hole it could find as the security officers collapsed onto the metal floor, gasping and struggling as they clung to their fading life. Their helmets looked really nice but I wasn't so sure of running around with my head smelling like fresh dried blood. If there was a god, maybe he could forgive me for murdering someone. I know it's morally wrong but if I'm going to be murdered in the Vault, the least I could do was fight.

Megan split off and ran off someplace. I should have asked her why, thinking that we would be more effective in a group, but it was too late now. I headed toward the atrium, where I knew the shortest route led to the administration section was. The overseer must have predicted I would be heading this way as four more officers met me there with their pistols drawn and batons raised. After a few shots rang out, I ducked behind the nearest cover I could find, a metal desk. It's a good thing those crudely made, nuclear like steel desks came in handy.

"Surrender!" one of them said. "Put down your- AAAAGUH!!" he shirked in horror, "Radroaches! I'm bit! They've ambushed us!" I peeked out from behind the desk to see 12 radroaches each surrounding an officer three to one, ravenously trying to rip off flesh from their hapless victims. Yep, this place has gone to hell, my initial reasoning has utterly failed me. I waited for the officers with their batons and pistols flailing about and swinging like crazy, to be fatigued by the radroaches. When I thought they were sufficiently weakened I got out, drew my pistol, and fired, making sure to deny the opportunity to fire back at me.

I sprinted up toward the admin complex, swatting aside radroaches that dare stray into my path with my baseball bat. It would be too time consuming to kill them all anyway. I resorted to let the bulkhead door slam loudly behind me and catch my breath. They're a pain to deal with in swarms but I'm not afraid of those humongous sized bugs one on one. It's just that taking on a swarm was not a good idea, especially with my limited amount of bullets. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one roach trying to wriggle its crushed lower half out of the bulkhead with its front legs. Poor thing, it would probably die due to starvation or dehydration. I put it out of its misery by arching the bat back and letting it fall with a sickening crack, splattering its grime and fluids everywhere. What a slimy mess it made on the bat, I hope it isn't radioactive.

I slowly stalked over to the administration section, turning around every once in a while to visually check all around me. The vault is filled with hidden tunnels that the overseer knows about, at least what the rumors that flow around this place say. I'm not taking that chance of somebody suddenly catching me off guard and then clubbing me over the head. I pointed the pistol every direction I thought possible. My heart was pounding; eyes were twitching left and right. My feet were contacting the metal floors as lightly as possible as my hands were tightly wrapped around the pistol, my finger ready to pull the trigger, all for that one moment. My breathing got heavier and slower, I was prepared for anything, even if I was ambushed from behind.

"NO!!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!" I heard someone screaming down the hall. That completely caught me off guard as I nearly fired that pistol; that would have not been good. I slowly crouched and inched my way down, making sure to take slow, light steps.

"What makes you think I helped him out?!" I could figure out whom that was, she got caught unfortunately.

"It's pointless to argue, Megan," said a voice. "Cameras, bugs; they're everywhere. A third of the vault monitors the other two-thirds. Did you really think you could get away with this?"

My legs pained as I sneaked closer to listen in. Crouching down without getting noticed was painful, my thighs were sore, I am not that flexible. I was right under the windows. Amazingly, I guess all the security force was dealing with the infestation or looking for me. They couldn't be that dumb could they? They have a lot of balls to not have any security protection. I glanced at the overseer's balding dark blonde hair. It's obviously dyed, I don't know who else in the vault has access to luxury items like hair dye. Somehow, they were having too much fun with the interrogation session to notice me. With all the draconian laws set up in this place, there's always room for some fun, it's just that there's an extra special case that sat right in front of him.

"But," the overseer snickered. "We can always make a deal for first time offenders, as you've been a very good and charming little girl." He pulled out his pen, gingerly twirling it around his hand and fingers. "What can we set up for you? I've heard you wanted a promotion or something different to do. Maybe some sultry voice acting, perhaps?"

"You wouldn't dare," Megan scowled.

"Oh?" the overseer inquired, surprisingly very calmly. "If you can't agree to anything else, maybe I think Evan has the perfect job for you."

Right on cue, Evan's god-forsaken ass came out from out of the woodwork. He was holding a manila folder, tattered around the edges and held together with some of the most third-world masking tape available. They must have had to recycle a bit from the previous inhabitants, seeing they couldn't find more folders to steal from us. He coolly took a peek inside the folder and chuckled in delight. Megan looked there scandalized, she was powerless. I wanted to rush in there and knock both of the suckers down, but now was not the most advantageous time. He was still off to the side; I couldn't sneak in without the overseer noticing me.

"Well, lookie here Meggie," Evan murmured, looking at the manila folder once more, stroking his finger over it. "Says here, the GOAT placed you into 'Black Widow'. I'm guessing you could swoon a number of Billy Goats in this vault with your fucking services."

"Do I look like a fucking whore to you!?" Megan demanded.

"Of course not," Evan raised an eyebrow. "That's why we have plastic surgery." He scanned his eyes around her petite figure, "In my opinion, I think we can lift the eyebrows, reduce the chin, smooth out some of the pimples, maybe some implants-"

"Don't patronize me, you asshole! We don't even have a doctor anymore!" Megan was quick to point out. "How can you expect to do plastic surgery without a doctor?"

"True," Evan yawned and stretched out his body, pacing about the room and stopping right in front of the door. "We can always _retrain_ people, we have some smart people in the Vault."

Now was my chance. I sprang from my spot and managed to get my left arm around Evan's neck. The both of them probably didn't expect me to suddenly come in from under their noses, but I figured they were just stupid little shits. I didn't like putting anyone in a hostage situation, but sadly I had no choice. I wanted freedom however ironically, Evan the tyrannical son, would be my way out though this mess. Despite that I hate his guts to death, I wouldn't have dreamed to put him in an extremely terrifying situation or using him as a bargaining chip. Revenge was utterly bittersweet.

However, my contempt for him still registered in that moment. "Unfortunately, just some smart people can't save the vault," I said, grabbing the pistol and holding it in my right hand, pointing it straight ahead, though making sure not to point it directly at Megan.

"Todd!" Megan gasped in disbelief. "Why?"

"Dad! Help me!" Evan cried out.

"Unfortunately," the overseer grumbled. "I don't offer the same deals to repeat juvenile offenders."

"Hmph," I snorted. Even though I ran into minor amounts of trouble with the security forces, that didn't excuse his sorry ass for being a conceited bastard. "Why would I want to work in the vault for? I'm sick of this place! I'd rather die out there in the wasteland than live all my life in this hole!" I demanded, I'll admit, desperately. "Just let me out and I won't harm anyone else, especially your goddamn son."

"Never," he rebutted. "I would never submit to the likes of you."

"I don't think you realize the position you're in," I argued calmly. "Medical services gone, just one armed resident, somehow getting into the administration section, holding the overseer's son hostage; sounds like a formula for public relations nightmare. I don't think I need to spell out if something happens and there's no doctor."

"Are you calling me weak!?" Evan shouted, trying to squirm free from the grasp around his neck.

"No, I'm not," I retorted, tightening my grip on his head, trying to get him to stay still. "I'm just saying you have limited options."

"You do too," the overseer was quick to retort, looking at Megan. "I know that without her, going solo for you would be difficult at best, considering the hostilities and the unknowns of the wasteland". He twirled his pen once more. "Plus it seems to me that you care for her a good deal, what would happen if all that was, taken away?"

Megan gasped; she didn't think the overseer would be that desperate. However, I thought the old man was bluffing, trying to copy my own arguments to beat me at my own game. Counting on the assumption that father-son relationships are stronger than friend-friend relationships, I made my move to corner him. It was my last attempt, before I'd do something that would create a huge mess for all of us. Hopefully not shootouts within the space of a closet but I wasn't planning on anything pretty.

"What a weak bluff," I grumbled. "If your son was killed right now, with all the personnel you have under you, a power struggle would probably erupt within the vault. Am I right, you incompetent son of a bitch?"

"You wouldn't dare," he scowled. "Threaten to kill people for a tiny glimpse of freedom."

"I would. Just give me the way out, release Megan, and no more shots will be fired. Claiming that you look out for the vault is your biggest concern, right?"

"Fine, here!" the overseer pulled out of his pocket the key with the password attached to it, and kicked it across the bare metal floor. I caught the keys with my sneakers, making sure to keep an eye as the overseer started to slowly let Megan out of the chair. Evan stammered his way to his father after I released my grip on him.

The overseer issued one final warning, "If you dare show you face around this vault again, I will personally make sure you are shot on sight!"

"Hmph. That won't be in a long time old geezer," I put my gun back to my side and began to take a leisurely stroll to the overseers office. How easy exactly was it to get out of this place? I'll admit, the thought of killing the poor fucks crossed my mind a couple of times but they were more adept at screwing the Vault over than anyone else.

"Todd!" Megan called me. I spun around to find her staring at me, trying to put on the best straight face she could. She stood there for the longest time, just staring. I was going to make some kind of sarcastic remark of telling her to relax or just to tell me what it is. Strangely, I stood there motionless trying to anticipate what she was trying to say.

"Todd…" Megan muttered blankly.

"Yeah?"

"Can you take me with you?"

I sighed. What should I do?

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

_

* * *

_

_Thank you for the 3 reviews I have received and 1 alert from Centurious The Azure._

_In response to the concerns that my vault was too similar to 101, I wanted to have a good foundation to work off from. I apologize for the Carbon Copy-ness of the first chapter. I hope by reworking the dialogue in this chapter it will stray away from that._

_ All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, and of course my characters._


	3. Chapter Three: The Sheep and the Goats

"_It is curious - curious that physical courage should be so common in the world, and moral courage so rare" –Mark Twain_

**Chapter 3: The Sheep and the Goats**

I stood there hesitantly, not knowing what in fucking hell to do. That phrase, "Can you take me with you?" reverberated throughout my head. Should I take her? One half of me wants to, knowing that I could barely survive without her intellect. The other sees her as a burden, one I'd have to waste precious resources on keeping another person alive. Besides, what good would that be if she would be useless outside? But she's a good friend nonetheless, I still trust her. I didn't know what was outside the door to begin with. Would it help to have a companion? Wandering in whatever outside alone seemed like a really shitty idea to me.

"Todd, you there?" I couldn't let anything get in the way of my decision. I have to think it over but what was that tugging? I needed to think. Was I really going to do this? Was it right to suddenly change a deal if I couldn't back it up, especially when I said it myself? Holy shit, what the hell have I done? Someone help me.

"TODD!!!" I heard someone scream, followed by, from what I could tell, a slap hitting the back of my head.

"What the hell!?" I yelled.

"Are you fucking deaf!?" Megan glared at me. "What the hell are you doing? You're just standing there!"

"Alright, alright. Fine, you can come." I relented, still not quite sure with my spur of the moment, under pressure decision. Although I was still quite pissed that Megan hit the back of my head, I wasn't looking forward to another slap or a kick in the balls if it came down to it. The least I could do was honor my word.

I bent down, "Now run," I hissed into her ear.

I suddenly glanced at the Overseer's eyes and then we both sprinted off toward that son of a bitch's office to find a way out of here. The overseer must have realized that I had broken my end of the bargain by originally saying I was the only one that was going to leave. His footsteps were catching up right behind me. He shouldn't be armed, not daring to try to make a bloody mess on the metal floors. It would be a pain in the ass to clean up and they were never known for cleaning. Still, I kept running.

His office was straight ahead. My feet clanged on the metal floor, doing the most natural thing possible, running as fast as I could. Turning around, I saw Megan trying to keep up, trying to be faster than the Overseer who was right behind her. She strained under her effort, it's probably the most important 100 feet of her life right now. It was the only chance between freedom and well, anything other than pleasant. I'd choose the freedom bit.

"C'mon, Megan!" I encouraged her on. The door up ahead came in sight, there must have a chip embedded in the key as it opened as we got near. Bounding inside first, my eyes suddenly saw the manual override switch on the side. As soon as she used the last strength of her energy to pass through that door, I pushed the switch down. The hydraulic door fell with an almighty clang. It went really quiet after that. The only noises I heard was the sounds of our panting breaths. I wiped some of the sweat off my brow, hoping I would never have to run that distance again.

"You bastard! Don't make me run that fast again!" Megan complained, sweeping her bangs out of her face.

"I don't know about that," I said weakly. "We may not have much time. What about your place? Do you want me to go back?" I proposed, it was the least I could do. No doubt if she didn't save my ass, I would've faced a horrible death.

"No, it's alright." she whispered, putting her hand on my shoulder. "You did enough. I don't have much to go back to either."

"Okay," I lazily murmured. That was awkward. What happened to her yelling at me a few minutes ago?

I walked over to the overseer's metal desk to find a white computer sitting there. Well, it was mostly white, with a black strip that read "_Commodore, PET Model 4032. Computer," _and a black keyboard. I've seen these before, they're everywhere within the vault, though I'll never understand what "Commodore", means. I sure as hell didn't know what "PET" stood for. Did it stand for Pretty Expensive Thingamagig? It looked ridiculously expensive though, who else in the vault could afford his tricked out personal computer?

I sat down and turned the power on. The familiar evergreen letters danced across the screen from left to right, the soft glow permeating through the hazy screen of the computer. I hardly used these things ever.

_Welcome back, Overseer. Please enter a password_

Christ, where was it? I'm patted myself down. Oh, it's still attached to the key, I couldn't believe I was that stupid. I looked at the password suspiciously.

"K- "_ clack _"I-" _clack_ "B-" _clack_ "B-" _clack_ "L-" _clack_ "E-" _clack_ "S-" _clack_

_Access Granted. Loading Main Menu…_

"What the hell? Who sets their password to '_KIBBLES_'?" Wasn't that the pre-war dog food?

"Apparently someone does," Megan peered over my shoulder. "Todd, can you stick this in?"

"Stick what in?" I turned around. She was holding up box with _"Polaroid Holodisks"_ written on it.

"Oh," I looked at her slightly confused. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"Feed it in so I can copy the data, stupidass!" she exclaimed.

"Okay, dammit. You didn't need to yell," I relented as I took the Holodisk out of the box. I looked around the computer. "Where do you feed it in again?" I wondered.

"Do you see the big orange button?" Megan grumbled.

"Oh, right." I quipped. I pressed the orange button on the top and a latch popped out on left side of the computer.

_Please feed holodisk film into drive A._

I did exactly that, threading the film from the 'START' end as best I could into the narrow opening of a slot labeled 'DRIVE A IN'. It seemed to catch so suddenly and automatically with it yanking the film out of the reel, catching me completely by surprise. The computer hummed and whined as the film went through the machine, giving regular updates on a green tinted status bar, its eerie glow staring at us. Was it there to taunt us? After what seemed like a few, long, agonizing minutes. It spat out the film in nearly the same way it came in, out the 'DRIVE A OUT' slot.

"Holy crap!" I exclaimed as I tried to catch the film and rewind it as tight as I could. If only they could be much easier to operate.

A dull thud pounded on the door that I just closed behind us. I dismissed it off as someone trying to kick the door down, as if anyone could kick a vault door down with their feet. I was going to look over the rest of the files and take my time on the computer, but after the second, much louder thud, Megan was freaking out. Browsing some of the stupid musings of the overseer, I saw her pacing around in the reflection of the computer screen, the expression on her face was getting more agitated by the minute. I wanted to say some kind of witty and sarcastic remark but it was obviously not the time.

By the third one, she completely lost it. It was too much for her. "Todd!" she cried.

"What?" I nonchalantly replied.

"Can we hurry it up?" she growled.

"Alright, Alright, shut the hell up, I'll get us out of here."

I clicked on the Vault Controls and after I don't know how many annoying, numerous prompts of "_ARE YOU SURE??" _from the computer, finally got confirmation that the vault door was opening. In how many years? I don't know. Shortly afterward, I leaped from the chair ran down with Megan through the cacophony of blaring alert tones, messages of the overseer, and the clanging sound of our footsteps to the Vault entrance; inhaling the nauseous air and fighting off the pains of fatigue along the way. I nearly tripped on the way down but I managed to shrug it off.

As we made it into the entrance area, the both of us stopped. It was a sight to behold. We both just stood there at the vault door as the cog shaped door with the yellow '111' plastered in the center finally finished its creaking movement. The hissing of steam filled the room with an ominous fog. It was an amazing sight; I certainly didn't think tons of metal could be moved like that. I know at least someone could have played some epic classical music to it, it was, heavenly. The sunlight was tantalizing from the other side of that flimsy looking door only a short distance away. That smell and taste the freedom on the other side of the door beckoned me on.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"You know it," Megan cheerfully smiled. That was at least reassuring. There was at least something for us beyond that door; tangible or intangible.

I took her hand and we took off toward the exit, eagerly anticipating a better life outside the confines of the Vault. I couldn't tell what her dreams were but I knew there at least the same as mine, freedom. My shoulder did most of the banging as I rammed through that door with an eager amount of force. The sun was eagerly blinding us as we have never experienced such a feeling. My vision turned completely white; it was like going to heaven.

As the sun blinded us, I could feel myself landing with a dull thud. What did I just crash onto? I hoped it wasn't a cliff ready to collapse and send both of us to a sudden and untimely death. As our eyes got used to the glare of the sunlight, I faintly made out a few tall buildings out to the southeast, the expanse of land that greeted us was much worse than I'd thought. Imagine how many dreams were shattered among the jagged flats before my eyes. The tear-flavored dust that went into my mouth as I staggered up and dusted myself off. It seemed to warn us to forget even trying to survive here, to turn back and return to the Vault we just broke out of.

"Thanks a lot, Todd," Megan grumbled as she was dusting herself off as well. "You could have at least tried to anticipate what's on the other side of the door."

"Not my concern now," I brushed off. "We got to find a town if there is any." I looked at my PIP-BOY, inserted the holodisk, and turned to the map that was conveniently on the overseer's computer. "According to this, we have to head east, and the town of Springvale should be along the way. With any luck, we should reach DC soon."

"Did you say town?" Megan perked up. "I want a shower!"

"I'd doubt we would reach it today, look at the sun," I pointed out in the distance. The sun was a brilliant red tone, the sky surrounding what looked like hazy orange smog smothering everything below it. We both walked toward the sun, despite the uncertainty that lay before us. Despite our virginity to the wasteland we thought we thought we could tame the beast that had claimed so many. A slight shiver went down my back. Despite my confidence, there was still the unknown ahead, and who knew what that would turn out like? At least I had someone else to accompany me on and that I was not alone. That could be the worst thing anybody has to go through, being alone and alive in hell.

* * *

After wandering for a while, with the sun behind us and illuminating the frizzled trees, I faintly saw a partially collapsed brick building and what looked like a collapsed beige metal shed that we could probably use as shelter for the night. It looked good enough to shelter us from the elements. No sooner than we got near it, I felt the whiz of a bullet graze past my shoulder, soon replaced with the sensation with the cold barrel of a gun. I could smell the assailant behind me, reeking of the smell of filth and death. I suppressed the temptation of nauseating. I didn't want to turn around, I'm sure the looks of it would kill me, or worse.

"What have we here?" I heard a ghoulish growl behind us. "Vaulties, eh? Get on yer' knees!"

Megan and I were both too scared to respond and so immediately complied. I couldn't believe it; our first taste of freedom was so good yet so fleeting. I closed my eyes, anticipating the shot to end it all. This was it, I had failed. This was going to be all over in a matter of minutes.

"These pathetic little fishies didn't have their cherries popped yet!" I heard another ghoulish cackle us. "Don't waste your ammo on them!"

"Why not?"

"We've got raiders to the North and a caravan to the South, let's go!" his companion urged and ran off.

"Wait! Where the hell are you going?!" his raspy voice echoed after him. "Freeloading yellow bastard." His voice breathed down our necks, worsening the stench, "Ya' won' be better off with raiders either. Smell ya' later fishies!"

When I felt that the two had run off a sufficient distance away, I tugged Megan's wrist and bolted off to the brick structure. I didn't know when those two would be back to re-catch their fresh catch, us. Didn't he also say there were going to be raiders as well? Together we ran much faster, further, and harder than in the vault, kicking up mounds of wasteland dust along the way. I honestly don't know how we did it, it must've been a miracle. After passing a few parked, insanely rusted and deteriorated cars, I spotted a pair of double doors, where I ushered the two of us inside.

Megan and I were both coughing and wheezing from running through the acrid air of the wasteland. It felt good to be panting in at least a little bit fresher air than outside.

"TO- " Megan was about to yell, when I muffled her mouth with my hand. She was going to get us killed!

"Shut up," I hissed. "We don't want to announce our presence here!"

She tapped my hand as a signal to lower it, "You're right, sorry. I forgot we aren't in the vault anymore."

"What is this place?" I quietly whisper, looking all around me with the PIP-BOY light on. There seemed to be ripped banners of 'GO SOX' strung all over the place, what seemed to be left of a snack bar stand, and lockers for I can only wonder what they were used for. This is not counting that the place was dark, damp, and dingy, with grime and objects just scattered around all over the place. I noticed a fairly decent, but most importantly, working terminal and tried to work my magic with the green dancing letters.

_Welcome to the Veterans' Memorial Sports Center!_

_Please join us for Game 1 of the 2077 World Series as the Boston Red Sox take on the Chicago Cubs! We will be showing it to you live on our big screen TV! Cost is $20 for the event, unlimited food and drinks are included!_

_Bring the whole family! Be part of the experience and cheer the Sox on!_

_GO SOX! _

"Wait," I frantically tapped my buttons on my PIP-BOY, trying to find more information about this place. "I can't find this place anywhere."

"Here, let me try," Megan offered, I let her examine the data I had on there. "That's weird. When I type in this place, it says the data is not available."

"The announcement clearly said 'Boston' but the map on the PIP-BOY says, 'Capital Wasteland,'" I pondered. It didn't make sense, the wasteland we saw earlier should be the Capitol Wasteland, and it clearly showed it on the Pip-Boy, with all the maps of it. After a few minutes of more thinking, I came to a stunning conclusion. I couldn't believe it, I was breathing so hard, it was so sudden, shocking.

"Todd," Megan looked at me as I'm still panting. "What's wrong?"

"This isn't the Capital Wasteland." I pant heavily.

"No…" she replied blankly. "If that's true, all of our data is worthless. I think we should throw out the disk…"

"No," I interrupt. "I still have to look it over. There could be some information on Dad."

"Oh, I forgot about that," Megan softly gasped. "I'm so sorry about what happened. He's a great man, always the one to look out for others." She warmly embraced me with her delicate hands. "We'll find him," she whispered.

"Thanks," I softly replied. "What happened to your-"

"Oh, my father," Megan looked down for a moment. "He's dead, killed by one man's lust for power…"

"I'm sorry," was the only thing I could muster.

"Well, I have closure," she softly smiled. "That counts for something I guess. Don't worry about me Todd, I'll pull myself together. I'd be much more worried if I didn't know if he was alive or not."

"But-"

"We're a team aren't we?"

"Yeah…"

I reluctantly broke off, I think Megan understood. We didn't have much time to mourn our losses in this unforgiving wasteland. We both reflected on how really lucky we were not to have been shot only a few minutes ago by ghouls that would probably feast on our corpses for a lovey human dinner. I was more concerned at the moment seeing if there's maybe a safe place for the night in here. It's really hard to think of our own survival when I'm too focused on finding him. He could be anywhere, and without any reliable maps, we're lost. We were screwed without maps.

"Let's see where we can plop ourselves down for the night," I tried to provide a bit of hope.

Megan silently agreed with me and we both combed the ruins of this place searching for anything of use to us, which included some stimpacks, rad-aways, as well as much needed food in the form of an MRE pack. Most importantly, there were no raiders here, despite what that smelly ghoul kept mentioning about. That was great, had there been raiders here, we would have been in trouble immediately. After what I thought was a through enough search of the place, I was ready to relax in what used to look like a locker room in its pre-war heyday. At least a filthy, worn out mattress was there to seal the deal.

I went to my task of trying to prepare a half-decent meal out of radioactive gruel and a ridiculously weak flameless ration heater by the light of my Pip-Boy, while Megan ducked into the locker room showers to find water, if there was any. She'd rather take a best of a shower she could than actually drink the probably irradiated water anyway. I wouldn't mind going a month without a shower, though knowing her, she couldn't go a few days without one. But why though? Wouldn't radioactive water scald your skin and leave it so raked and ugly like a walking piece of shit?

I dipped my finger into the gruel. Not wanting to look at whatever the sight of the contaminated food was, I closed my eyes and swallowed it down as fast as I could. God, that tasted awfully disgusting. To get the taste of cold, acidic puke out of my mouth, I needed a whole lot of pure water. It sure had a feisty kick to it. What the hell was in there? I have got to remember to bring pure water for consumption next time, or at least how make the contaminated water around here significantly more potable. It would make our lives a hell of a lot easier.

I waited for Megan since the cooking was unfortunately done already after less than a minute. There was no luck at all in the cooking and nothing I could do. I should probably clean my pistol, there's no telling how much dust has entered the thing when I hit the ground. Would it jam if I fired the next shot?

"TODD!!" I heard Megan scream.

"What?" I bolted into the shower room. Megan's naked torso was covered up by her vault jumpsuit, her brown hair going to a bit past her shoulders, her fair skin basking in the green glow of my Pip-Boy light. I stood there and stared for a good few moments. In the Vault, we'd always have our immensely utilitarian and stifling blue vault-suits. Besides, I was never really interested in women within the vault anyways, not even Megan. She was probably out of my league though, being the daughter of a well off bureaucrat and being on the wish list of many other guys. I didn't know how to react. I was speechless.

Megan frowned, "Are you done staring at me?" she snapped.

I blushed a bit, "Oh...," I murmured. "What's the problem?"

"There's somebody there," she pointed toward the corner where it seemed to be a makeshift stall was built but I couldn't see anybody where she was pointing at.

"You can't be serious. Are you-"

"Yes!" she cried.

I crouched down with my pistol drawn, gingerly trying to catch some wasteland asshole by surprise. Nervous for her own safety as well, I motioned for Megan to stay back in case I was unfortunately dealing with a wasteland lunatic on top of an asshole. I took a bit of cover for the last time before I darted around the makeshift divider; I was prepared to be shot at point blank range, again. Twice in one day, how about that.

However, I was greeted by the body of a dead male wastelander sprawled over the tile floor. Breathing a sigh of relief, I put two fingers on his neck to see if there was any pulse, which I didn't find any. He had been dead for quite a while, long enough for anyone to not notice him, I guess.

"Don't worry, it's safe," I reassured her and holstered my pistol back.

A short pat-down of the body later, I pocketed a few shotgun shells and a holotape. He had some other interesting loot as well, I don't know what the names were but I tried to pocket them anyway, they looked so foreign and intriguing. I looted like a kid in an unlocked candy store. Besides, if I didn't need them, I could always sell them off, for a gun to shoot people with if need be.

"Todd! You can't do that!" Megam screamed. "It's just... not right!"

"What's not right?" I ask. Why her of all people? Me looting a dead body not going to affect anyone else. So what if I'm caught red-handed?

"Stealing from a dead body… I'd never think you'd be so-"

"Look Megan," I turned around. Apparently, she moved closer to take a better look at what I was doing, she must have assumed that I'd be all nice and walk away from it. "I know it's tough, but if it hasn't sunk into you yet, morals die out here or it's you or me who dies."

"But you don't have to-"

"Alright, fine. I'll humor you," I grumbled. I reluctantly put the rest of the loot back down, deciding to keep the shotgun shells and the holotape. They're way too damn valuable for me to just return it. I hoped that her complaining doesn't risk our lives.

"Anyway," I changed the topic. "The food's done. I tried my best though, I wouldn't expect much," I shrugged.

"Alright, I'll just change back into my vault-suit first," Megan replied while I went back to the food.

Supper was otherwise uneventful as we tried to consume the gruel as best we could. I don't know if I could look at Megan anymore. Have I broken her trust? Should I apologize to her? Those questions crossed my mind as I tried to get used to survival. We had it so sheltered in the vault; only worrying about if the food was any good, the water was always clean, and we knew everyone around us pretty much. Out here, it was just us, the wasteland wasn't climate controlled, the food and water are nearly always contaminated, and who knows what kind of wacko would try to kill us in our sleep.

"Umm… Megan," I tried to break the looming and uneasy silence.

"What is it, Todd?" she looked at me.

"Sorry…" I muttered.

"'Sorry?' What for?" she asked, confused.

"That accident a while ago…"

"Don't worry about it," she brushed off. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

We finished our meal shortly after. I don't think the two of us were looking forward to living off that every few days. It was an acquired taste to say the least; it had a fiery one afterward.

"What was that supposed to be?" Megan complained.

I picked up the MRE package, "Says 'Chicken Fajita,'" I said as I held it toward the Pip-Boy light. "What the hell is a chicken fajita?" I wondered.

"Beats me," she shrugged. "Todd, where did you get that holotape?" she asked.

"The holotape? Oh, I got it off the dead guy." Dammit, how did she see that?

"Todd you- "

"Hold on, calm your ass down. I'll play it first. There might be some information on here," I explained. I ejected the overseer's data and inserted the current tape. I pressed the buttons to make it play. I hope this tape is valuable enough so I don't have to put it back.

"_If this isn't a wasteland, what is it?! Ghouls, mutants, raiders; just three of the things that could get my ass killed. I can't believe some people actually want to interact with them or even deny that they're in a wasteland. All of the above need a good piece o' slugs shot up their asses. I've heard the Smiling Buddha is nearby, maybe someone can answer this stupid rhetorical question..."_

However, the next voice startled us. It was definitely a different voice, kind of similar to the one that was breathing down our necks.

"_It's what you want it to be, but for the most part, its hell."_

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Can you spot some nods in this chapter? There are quite a few. In my twisted Fallout universe, the Red Sox haven't won the World Series since 1918, Cubs haven't won since 1908, you do the math. Sorry, fans of those respective teams._

_Thank you for the, 5 reviews and 1 new fave and alert. A big thank-you to lovelyxxmelody who did everything. I was a bit uneasy about suddenly cutting off the plot so suddenly and adding a plot twist, but I'm glad to hear it worked out alright._

_As always, I only ask for reviews. It's set on anonymous if you're too lazy to sign in. __All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course my characters. I don't plan to earn anything off of this.**  
**_

_**

* * *

**_


	4. Chapter Four: Mu Vox Nihili

**Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, my characters and storyline, and other trademarks, references and characters that may be featured in this story. **

"_When I look up, I see people cashing in. I don't see heaven, or saints or angels. I see people cashing in on every decent impulse and human tragedy." –Joseph Heller, Catch-22._

**Chapter 4: Mu (****Vox Nihili)**

I woke up suddenly in the darkness, looking around the darkened room around me. What did I do to deserve this? Living like scum, though the Vault wasn't that much better. The wind was howling above my head; a constant reminder of what I had signed up for. The hazy mist must have blocked out any traces of hopeful light that might have tried to come down here. I sat there for a few moments, blankly staring at the grungy wall in front of me. God, I can't sleep tonight. I don't know what it is. I tried to focus on the peeling paint, the broken tiles, or some sort of insignificant detail, maybe to get my mind off or something…

* * *

_FLASHBACK _

"_It's what you want it to be, but for the most part, its hell," _we both stood there in shock. The static permeated throughout the stale air. It stopped a few seconds later. We would never forget that horrible voice. That low, raspy tone; like someone's windpipe and larynx turned to sandpaper. I ejected the tape and replaced it with the Overseer's Data and put the Pip-Boy on standby. It's good thing it can recharge its own batteries with its miniature motor in there, that's all I knew about it. Frankly, I wouldn't want to tamper with it; if it still worked, it isn't broken and doesn't need to be fixed.

"I sure hope as hell you're not telling me not to put that tape back," I looked over toward the closed shower room door. Getting up on my ass just to put a stupid tape back was not something I was looking forward to do.

"Alright, fine. I'm thinking we'll need it anyway," she sighed in defeat.

"Glad to see you still have a bit of common sense, Megan," I smirked a bit. Winner her arguments seemed to be the most satisfying thing.

"Shut up."

"Where is this 'Smiling Buddha' place?" I leaned back into the wall. I tried to find an answer from the dim stars above my head. A light breeze howled through the place, trying to confusingly tell me where to go. Our maps were worthless, our data could be wrong, and who knows what kind of place the wasteland is? Hell, I don't even know how far away we're from the Capital Wasteland, it could be a few miles, it could be hundreds, or thousands of miles away. That's hard to fathom. I sighed at… well, I don't know; I sighed at nothing. That's really crazy, I'm sighing at nothing.

I laughed a bit, I don't know why. It seems odd to be laughing in this decrepit ruin, when the even the place I sit on is hostile to me.

"What's so funny, Todd?" Megan wondered as she sat down next to me, joining me in my stargazing.

"Could you have ever imagined our lives to have been so different so soon?" I mumbled blankly.

"Since when were you ever a deep thinker?"

"Since right now if that counts," I said sarcastically. "I'm sure as hell didn't think I was going to die outside the vault."

"I was just teasing, Todd. Geez," she pouted.

"Well, would've you liked to have been the Vault's pleasure worker?" I asked seriously.

"Of course not, Todd," she shook her head. "I probably wouldn't have been the _entire_ Vault's pleasure worker. Think more specific, like the Overseer's bitch or something." She sighed; it was probably uncomfortable bringing up that topic. I would have freaked out if I was in that position, taking garbage duty over working for them any day.

"Oh, sorry for bringing that up…"

"Don't worry about it; I'm just glad I'm not doing that again, ever," she had a sigh of relief on her face. "Why? What did they put down for you?" she questioned.

"Health Inspector," I shrugged. "As if my room was ever neat and tidy to begin with." The GOAT had a sadistic sense of humor, giving us jobs we both hated and knew we weren't good at. That didn't matter now, though I wondered if there was maybe some way we could earn something. Megan and I both had a few bottle caps between us. At least that could be traded for something, everything has its own value right?

I wanted to focus on something other than what my next plan of action for survival is. I tried looking up at the stars.

"Hey, Megan," I murmured blankly my eyes still skyward.

"Yeah?"

"You see those three bright stars?" I pointed up into the night sky.

"You mean the ones close together?" Megan wondered.

"Yeah, those."

"What about it?"

"Those are part of the constellation Orion, with those stars being Orion's belt."

"What the hell is Orion? And more importantly, _where _did you ever learn that?" she wondered in astonishment.

"Orion was a hunter in Greek mythology, threatened to kill every beast on Earth, but... I uhh…" I stammered, forgetting what I was going to say. I knew I couldn't memorize the entire story off the top of my head. That was a terrible execution.

"And?" Megan inquired suspiciously.

"Mother Earth objected and sent a giant scorpion to kill Orion. The creature succeeded, and after his death, the goddesses asked Zeus to place Orion among the constellations. Zeus consented and added the Scorpion to the heavens as well," I finished quickly glancing at my PIP-BOY to see if I got the details correctly. I hoped she didn't notice that.

"Well, obviously you didn't know that one off the top of your head," Megan saw through that, she must have seen me take a quick glance off my PIP-BOY. "C'mon Todd, where did you get that from?" she raised an eyebrow, looking at me like she knew I was cornered in a battle of logic.

I sighed in defeat, "I read that off the overseer's tape."

"You can't fool me Todd..."

_END FLASHBACK_

_

* * *

_

I turned my head back over a bit in the darkness, watching Megan's chest rise and fall with the rhythms of her breathing. She was fast asleep on that filthy mattress and I could not resist that fragile moment of peace. Had I been alone in this, my first step was to probably gnash the bastard's head open with whatever what was in my hand or close to it. But this was Megan; I had to remind myself, because I didn't want to admit too much that we were, in fact, a team. I had to get my priorities straight, I just couldn't blow anybody's head off without thinking.

I dragged myself over to Megan's sleeping figure, somehow bringing into perspective of what I could lose in this high-stakes wasteland, subconsciously running my left hand over her forehead. Not knowing how long I did it for, I took a few shallow breaths. It seemed to put mind at ease for a bit.

The moment I looked down though, I saw Megan smiling at me in her sleep, her closed eyes innocently looking at me. It took me a while to realize it, but I silently cursed myself. What the fuck am I doing? Had they been open, I would've gotten an earful. I slowly pulled my hand back and looked at it bizarrely for a while, trying to imagine the possible consequences and scenarios in my head. Maybe I over-reacted but I hoped Megan doesn't figure out it was me. As I went back to my sleeping spot on a nearly decayed locker room bench, I tried not to think about it

I took a shallow breath in and wondered if I could survive the next day. Sleep soon overtook me; I guess I'll find out later.

Morning couldn't come by soon enough after I fell asleep. The sunlight pierced into my eyes, I must have faced the wrong way. I held my arms up as my eyes slowly adjusted to this foreign feeling of light. I don't know what time it is and I honestly don't trust the time on my PIP-BOY at the moment, though by my reasoning, it's around six o'clock. Give or take one or two hours. Very crude reasoning, I know but it's the best I can do.

Thinking it could hold up under my shifting weight, I tried stretching out on the decaying locker bench. It suddenly snapped under me and my ass hit the floor. What a waste of a good sleeping spot, thought it was better than sleeping on the dirty ground. Radroaches could bite my face while sleeping on the ground.

"Ow…" I grumbled.

After recovering from that unintended fall, I was surprised Megan didn't wake up after all that. I want to get moving so we don't become an easy target and hopefully find that "Smiling Buddha" place while we're at it. I hope it wasn't too far of a walk. The more we were out there, the more we were walking targets.

"Hey, Megan," I shook her a bit to get her to wake up. "C'mon, wake up. We're moving outta this place."

"Nnhh! Go 'way Todd…" she softly moaned, turning back over on the mattress.

I sighed; there was only one way to do this. I ejected the Overseer's holotape and put in the dead guy's one into my PIP-BOY and went into the playback options…

_Set playback speed: ~.75_

_Pitch change: -1.5_

_Volume change: +2_

_Play…_

It sounded like a mess with the distorted voices, scratches, and pops everywhere. The best part was at the very end. Hell, it sounded ridiculous and it was beyond words to describe how messed up it sounded..

"AAHH!" Megan squealed, finally awake. Scared out of her mind, but awake.

"Too bad the PIP-BOY doesn't have a camera," I was close from outright laughter, enjoying the look of terror on her face. "That was freaking hilarious. Hahaha," I chuckled.

Megan's initial shock turned to anger as she looked at me with her ever-familiar, cross green eyes. She took a deep breath in then deeply sighed out. I was confused as she walked up to me and…

*SLAP*

"Ow!" Damn it.

* * *

"Todd, are you sure we're going in the right direction?" Megan groaned. That must have been the thousandth time I had heard that question while wandering around for a while. I didn't have a clue where we were going. Did we go North, South? I couldn't tell, it seemed like we going in all directions.

"Not really," I shrug my shoulders. "If you haven't noticed yet, we've been lost ever since we left the vault."

"Can you at least ask for directions?"

"Why?" I asked. "We'd probably get shot or kidnapped before we even get to directions."

"Still," she fussed. "It wouldn't hurt won't it?"

"But we're nearly there, why would we need to ask?"

She stepped right in front of me, forcing me to come to a halt. She couldn't believe it. "How the hell do you know, Todd?!" She looked at me flabbergasted.

"Look at the signs," I pointed ahead. A crude sign was erected with only the letters, "SB" on it with an arrow pointing, from what I could orient on my PIP-BOY, southward. It didn't say how much farther we had to travel, though I'm sure the letters stood for the "Smiling Buddha."

After about an hour in the wastes from when we left the abandoned Sports Center, we finally arrived at "Smiling Buddha". It looked like a mess really, like one of the colonial forts they taught us in our pre-war history class. A few layers of sheet metal were wrapped around the entire town for what little protection they could afford or find. I could probably poke my finger though the shanty walls; it definitely couldn't stop a bullet fired out of my piece. A towering ship's mast was clearly visible from the outside, complete with a miniature platform at the top. I couldn't tell who that person was, but he was watching our every move with a primitive telescope or something, keenly watching our actions. Freaky stuff.

It seemed unreal that we could even encounter people here, much less a town. I hoped it the "Smiling Buddha" was actually Springfield. No that's not it, Springvale. At least no one was shooting at us on sight when we approached; that was a relief. I thought firefights were inevitable here.

"Welcome to the Smiling Buddha Indian Restaurant!" a Protectron robot in a thick accent was there to greet us. "Processing… error: 0u2m341f1e… This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I master my life. My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than any enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will."

"Okay," I raised an eyebrow. "That was random." I tried to receive a signal from robot's ID transponder from my PIP-BOY. It gave us a reading as "c$BJ8;z2=$1c(J Jayaraman." Funny name, wonder who made that up.

"error: 1nv411d473… Please tell your friends!"

"As if there are any friends I could make in this world," I muttered sarcastically to myself. How cute and naïve.

We made ourselves through the dilapidated gates of the Smiling Buddha. I wasn't expecting much, probably a few peddlers, a place to grab an irradiated bite to eat, and maybe sleep on a rotten mattress for a night. Sounds like fun, but before I could even decide what I wanted to do, I was greeted by a very friendly…

"Who the fuck are you two?"

"What the fuck?" I turned around. I was going to punch the person somewhere near the face but seeing an AK slung over his shoulder. A mismatched quilt of camouflage adorned his stocky, slightly tanned frame. He gently lowered his bush hat brow a bit, I couldn't tell if that was a greeting or if he was annoyed at something.

"I don' trust vaulties like yous," he rambled. "All you dickhead twerps think yous can run this place." I wanted to punch this guy so bad if there weren't any people in this place. "Hope yah take a digga by a mutie," he turned to exit. What an asshole. Trying to ask anybody about my dad's whereabouts is definitely a lost cause here. These people are dicks.

We tried to get a sense of the place. It seemed like the place had an eerie feeling about us, like we came from another part of the wasteland. That ship's mast in the middle of the town was an odd fixture here, not to mention a lunatic looking down on everyone with a telescope. A slight breeze kicked up a flurry of dust as we both made it toward a makeshift market built around the mast. I hope I could trade my useless junk for something infinitely more useful. We wandered around the stalls of poorly constructed shanties. God, they looked awful. They must be so strapped for resources that they made our Vault looked like a fucking opulent palace where we could sit around and jack off to our Victory Food. There was a lot of things from a bite up to bangs, shoe dusters to shit doctors, even a map trader, how convenient. Lots of options, lots of unnecessary decisions for me to make.

I walked up to the shack. It had a dingy purple sign that had "MAPA YAWK'S" strung together of varying sizes, shapes, and colors.

"Name's Burt Yawkey," he rubbed his long, blonde hair back with his grimy-looking fingers. "Owner of Mapa Yawk's. What yah want?"

"You buy maps?" I enquired.

"You provide maps, I provide the stashers," he cracked a small smile.

"What are stashers?" I looked at him puzzled.

He looked at us shocked with his brown eyes, "You people can't be THAT new. Sure I've seen pretty green people from time to time but you's can't be that new."

"Unfortunately, we are," I shrugged my shoulders. Yep, brand fucking new! How about that, full of snot up our noses and think we can take over the world.

He reached behind his ear, grabbing a circular piece of metal with twelve teeth on it. "See 'dis," he said, twirling it around, before setting it down on the corrugated metal counter. "Dis a star washer, or stasher. Use it to buy and sell all sorts of shit."

"Oh? why twelve?" I wondered, still looking at the gears with curiosity only a dog would love.

"Don't ask me," he shrugged. "Probably 'cause ghouls can't count to twelve, fucking dumbasses. But enough talk, what'cha trying to sell?"

I showed him my useless map of the Capital Wasteland on my PIP-BOY, thinking it couldn't be possibly worth anything. It's a load of crap right now, it shouldn't be worth anything, only a worthless stack of information that I ripped off free from the overseer. He got his revenge by leaving me with the most useless map in all of post-apocalyptic human history.

"Why don'tcha come 'round back?" he jerked his head a bit.

"Oh, alright," I said with a degree of nervousness. I told Megan to wait in front, just in case he might try something unexpected and we'd both be screwed. I made my way to back of the shack where we tried for a few minutes of exchanging conditions to make a deal. I had no choice; it was probably going the only offer I was going to get in this town of paranoid, mistrusting pricks. His stasher offer was lower than I expected, and I could not see an end in sight. Negotiating forever to make a deal was not an option.

"I'm sorry," I said apologetically. "I don't think I can agree to a deal."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure we can work out a deal, _especially_ for false information."

"Like what?" I asked skeptically.

"Like this," he pulled out a rifle from a decayed, dirty wooden crate. It was definitely worn, it's wooden stock dull and old with the passage of time, the barrel had rust all over it, and the sights looked like it was going to snap at any second. To top it all off, it must have been wrapped in tape before, I saw the sticky, pale, tape residue left behind, which was probably duct tape. Someone was really that paranoid about having their rifle stolen while they slept to have it taped like that. I don't know if it could still even fire rounds or not; if the outside looked like crap, who knew what the internal functionality of this rifle looked like. I didn't want to think about it for too long, having a rifle that would blow up in my face.

"Hmm," I looked at it carefully. At least the bolt looked alright and it's badge of honor, a "WEATHERBY" label still visible. It was barely salvageable. "How much?"

"35 percent of the map." Woah, what was he asking? It was a pretty big map.

"It's a pretty big map you know, Burt. 25 percent?"

"How about 33? That rifle, a clip, and 25 stashers?

I thought it over for a moment, I didn't want to be giving out too much information or any possible clues about what could be found if we actually made it to the Capital Wasteland.

"How about 30? Rifle and stashers, Burt?"

"You know it's real picky about ammunition, you know? Pawnin' the ammo around here is not easy."

"I don't care. That's my final offer." So what if I couldn't find the extremely special ammunition? I could make things work.

"Alright," he shrugged his shoulders, lighting a cigarette. "Just plug it in there," he gestured over to a badly beat up IBM computer with a screen cracked in a million places, displaying the status update in barely legible English across its chartreuse screen. Someone must of had a bad day and took the stress out on the screen.

I connected my PIP-BOY up. I was really uneasy but it was a hard decision, a rifle and information. Right now, I have a wimpy arsenal; an N99 pistol made by the lowest bidder that just happened to survive a long time. I can't count on that piece of lucky junk forever. It would probably jam when I needed it the most.

_New hardware recognized, initializing CPM-86 v3.21…_

Hopefully not a virus. I didn't trust this computer hooking up to my PIP-BOY one bit.

_Initiated! Please type in a command. Loading...  
_

_P: Toggle Option /find _

_Scanning… file found! Please type in a valid command for docx Type in ? for a list of valid commands._

_Initiate sbs copy /r 30%_

_Selecting 30/100 data ratio: transferring to host…_

After the a few minutes, the transfer was complete. Thankfully Burt honored his end of the deal, giving me the Weatherby rifle with some stashers. Though I didn't care to think what kind of consequences would ensue from me being the source of false information, I'm sure Megan would have thought otherwise if she was standing next to me. After seeing me loot a dead body, she'd be really pissed off at me spreading all this crap information across this wasteland. Speaking of Megan, I said my goodbyes with my new rifle strapped over my back, keen on rejoining Megan and ditching this guy who would instantly drool over my contributions.

"Oh, there you are," she said as she recognized me. "How did the chat go?"

"Alright I guess," I shrugged casually.

"Pfft, yeah. I guess it's 'Alright, I guess' scoring something good," she said, tugging my jumpsuit a bit.

"Well, I can't just point it randomly around here without expecting to be shot. I'll show it to you later."

"Yeah, you're right," she agreed. "Let's find someplace to eat!"

"I'd rather find a room first," I grumbled, still kind of weary from wandering the wastes.

" C'mon Todd, you're no fun!" she teased me.

"There's usually a place to grab a bite near a place to sleep, lets go."

After wandering through the Smiling Buddha a little bit, we found an inn of some sorts called _Antimony's_. It was in decent shape, it didn't look too bad considering the number of shoddy buildings surrounding it. I was only there to get a room and maybe grab a snack, not to strike up a conversation over where my dad was. This town is really xenophobic as is already, I don't know if it's my looks or what that caused mostly everyone to look at me with suspicion. They'd probably give me a crap answer or try to claim some sort of bullshit ransom on me; like I could deal with both anyway.

I purchased a room for the both of us as well as a bit of food from the stalls around here that could last us a few days provided we didn't eat 3 meals a day. At least the owner didn't treat us like foreign mice or something, like most of the assholes in this place. That was a relief; I got to get her name later, just for business sake.

Megan was lying on the bed she claimed when she first got in, eating a stick with some sort of meat on it. I couldn't tell what it was. As for me, I ate into what was supposed to be fish curry with, "Pineapples and sea sponges added in just for sheer disparity and randomness!" as I combed through the Overseer's tape looking for any data that I might have overlooked. It's probably best to know which kind of fauna that would love to have us for dinner are encountered here too.

"I'm a soldier, значит я, И ответчик и судья" Oh, and that too.

I looked over more the information, trying to get a sense of how stupid I was in my previous assumption of only have to encounter people with basic body armor and pistols like ours anywhere at the very most. Oh well, nothing much I can do about it now. There was no way I was backtracking to the Vault. My information browsing was interrupted as I heard a bit of a commotion coming from outside our room. Thinking it was just a few random punks I didn't think too highly of it, but I got up and opened the room door just a crack and checked anyway. It's a good thing I checked, because I saw out of all people in this shelled out world, it had to be the Overseer and a group of thugs. Absolutely lovely.

It couldn't have come at a worst time, I'm sure it's him. Who else would go to such length to try to reclaim precious vault dwellers squabbling out in the wasteland? I'm sure he wasn't here to play nice and allowing us to return to the vault freely. Oh nope, he'd love to make an example out of us on why you shouldn't leave the first place. I couldn't tell what they were armed with, but I'm sure it beat my wimpy arsenal of pistol and an unloaded rifle. I want to know how he got out without alerting the entire Vault that he was just going to step outside for some fresh air.

"What is it Todd?" Megan asked me inquisitively. Fuck! She was so close in giving away the both of us!

"Shh!" I hissed, muffling her with my hand. "You won't believe it, but I think that psycho son of a bitch is looking for us," I whispered.

She knew what I meant. Even though I didn't want to, I was prepared for a fight. It was only a matter of time, my first taste of wastelander combat. Either that, or well, things could be worse.

I'll have to see about that. Wish me luck.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

_A/N: The Smiling Buddha_

_The Smiling Buddha was the code name the first nuclear test explosion by India. I'll quote this from wikipedia "It was also the first confirmed nuclear test by a nation outside the permanent five members of the United Nations Security Council [US, Russia, UK, France, China] having been developed and executed with no foreign help or assistance." The location of the Smiling Buddha is located near the present day city Arlington, Massachusetts, roughly six miles from Boston. Initially, it would be largely unaffected by the combined nuclear strike but has the Wasteland slowly turned to dust, erosion would take care of the rest._

_I want to thank, Argente for reviewing, zgreece for faving, alerting, and suggesting things to be put in, gdogg66 and rmctagg09 for the alerts with a bigger thanks to FireKunai for the review and a shout-out in her story, __The Wayward Soldier_. As always please read and review!  



	5. Chapter Five: La Terre Sera Malade

**Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, my characters and storyline, and other trademarks and references that may be featured in this story. **

"_Opinions have caused more ills than the plague or earthquakes on this little globe of ours." –Voltaire_

**Chapter 5: La Terre Sera Malade**

"Oh, no." I sighed, quickly closing the door as fast as I could without making a sound or the overseer detecting my sudden panic. We were screwed beyond belief! That and a lot of things went through my mind, the least of which was my hand still over Megan's mouth.

"Mmph… mmph!" I heard her struggling against my hand. I don't think he was in a too particular rush to capture us, waiting for when the time was right and hopefully us making a mistake. I'm sure he would be staying in this screwed up town for a little while longer. I didn't like the feeling that he was going to be stalking around this merry little craphole full of foreign-hating pigs, eager to drag the two of us back in.

I opened the door slightly ajar again, wondering if he was going to storm our room and kidnap us all. Thankfully the overseer wasn't keen on noticing us and walked out of _Antimony's_ with his little search party. That gave me a huge sigh of relief, I seriously needed it. When I was absolutely sure he was out the door, I slowly lowered my grasp on Megan's mouth. She was breathing pretty hard after that, I could at least understand that.

"Todd!" she angrily hissed at me. I'd be too if someone was nearly trying to strangle me.

"Sorry about that, don't want to go back to the vault again," I shrugged. I must have applied too much pressure in panic. Whoops.

"You could have at least warned me about it before trying to suffocate me," she fussed.

"Yeah, I'll try," I muttered with a hint of sarcasm. Like I had any influence over what time the overseer decided to show up with thugs hell bent on recapturing the both of us.

The best course of action I thought was to probably sleep on it. I plopped down as best as I could on the mattress. Yep, sleep on it, but I wasn't in the mood to close my eyes at the moment. I don't think another outsider like him would find too much space here. I hope as hell he's restricted to the area around the vault. It's an epic sea of wasteland to cross. That was a scary thought; it was just a sea of wastes and fucked up people.

I tried to recalibrate both of our PIP-BOYs to what was left of the setting sun. I was too lazy to even look at the corrected time; that was not my biggest concern. All I knew it that this was going to be only our second night in the wastes, we were obnoxiously vulnerable, and that we were probably going to be forced home. Those things crossed through my mind as I lay sidewards across the bed trying to collect my thoughts. My mind liked to wander. I don't know why, but it liked to wander.

"Will I ever find him?" I stared at the ceiling wondering to myself. God, I was so hopeless.

"You're thinking too much about it, Todd," Megan looked at me. Yeah, thinking of it too much. I don't think I was, but still, I'd still be irritated at anyone trying to tell me otherwise.

"You're not helping Megan," I grumbled.

"Look, I'm trying to-"

"I know that," I interrupted. "I think it's easier if you have closure. Me? I don't know whether he's alive or dead, good or evil, wants to embrace me, or wants to fucking kill me-"

The rest of my words were mostly incoherent mumbling. I couldn't talk or think. My eyes rolled around, trying to focus on something.

"Let's get some rest, Todd," Megan suggested. "We've been wandering around this place so long."

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed with Megan and decided to get some sleep. I had a long day behind me. It's probably the farthest distance I had walked in one day. I yawned and closed my eyes on the dirty pillow-less and sheet-less mattress, with sleep coming a short while later. Dealing with the overseer could come later, I didn't want to think about it too much before it would needlessly consume me.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of my PIP-BOY alarm reading 8:00, normally the time I needed to wake up to begin my job. I suddenly remembered that had I been in the vault, I was usually off on the weekends. Wait, where is this coming from? I'm not in the vault anymore. I sat up and stretched, what the hell am I thinking? However, there was one thing I'd thought I'd never see; Megan was actually awake before me, resting casually against the room's corrugated metal wall.

"Never thought I'd see you up this damn early," I smirked a bit. My smirked quickly vanished as I came to a stunning realization; we still have a '111' plastered on our backs like a huge freaking target. We were begging to be kidnapped or shot. "You're probably gonna have to change your looks," I muttered, albiety somewhat hopelessly.

Megan sighed. "Not even a damn 'Good Morning'!?" she complained, half joking, half serious.

"Sorry about that 'miss," I retorted, sarcasm drooling from those words.

"Cut the crap, Todd. Anyway, why are you telling me to change my looks? What about you?" she asked, settling down into a chair.

"One, I'm armed with more than just a pistol- "

"Yeah, and an unloaded rifle," she said dubiously. She looked at me astonishingly. "Are you fucking crazy?"

I shrugged, "Well it has 'WEATHERBY' on the rifle, it can still fire, and I don't think it would splinter if I smash somebody's head open." I sighed in frustration as I headed toward the door, "I can't think; I need to go for a walk."

"Whatever," Megan jumped onto the mattress. "Just try not to get into anything stupid."

"I hope you're good at sewing, teaches good skills you know, like patience," was my best retort. I could hear Megan snort and mutter something inconsistent. I chuckled a bit to myself and went to take an early morning stroll.

* * *

Christ, even at this time of day, the sun is merciless. I don't know how people that wander around here get used to it. I meandered aimlessly around the town, with not a friendly face in sight. Trying to attempt a smile, much less a "Good Morning. Weather's great, isn't it?" was only an invitation to get me shot. The people would look at me like I was making fun of them or I was an idiot stranger in this town. I still see that guy up there on the mast looking over the town and the wasteland. I don't think I could I do that job, boredom would soon consume me. Either that or I'd die of dehydration.

The haphazard, dusty paths seemed to remind me I was still foreign here, despite spending a night here. Something was circling above my head, although with glare, I couldn't quite tell what. It seemed to remind me of a mutated pigeon. That thought didn't help much. Crap, I need a drink.

I silently wandered around a while longer being careful not to bump into anyone too badly. It would probably turn into a major firefight if I wasn't careful. I soon found a decrepit looking bar in this god-forsaken town and walked in, not knowing who would be behind the counter. Hopefully the barman would be kind enough to at least lend a kind ear to my troubles.

I found the bar to be deserted, except for semi-muscular man with, if I remembered correctly from overseer's notes, raider painspike armor bottom with a tank top draping his shoulders. He was busy shining a shot glass under his heavily rust-colored cowboy hat. He looked about 21 or so. I don't think he noticed me coming in.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as his hand slipped and he chipped the shot glass' edge on the counter. It took a while but he finally noticed me. "What are you looking at, you fat fuck!? If ya' ain't orderin' anything, get the hell outta here!" he yelled. Whoa, what an asshole. How many people did he fuck with today?

"You got a glass of water?" I asked honestly. Any bar worth its salt serves something non-alcoholic right?

He rolled his eyes, "I haven't seen your baby-ass mug around here, so I'll so damn kind enough to explain my policy," he smirked manically. Jesus Christ, if he was a former raider, then running a bar was a piece of cake. "You ain't getting any free non-alcohol bullshit while I'm here."

I was looking for a glass of water to help me feel better. But what the hell, screw it. A drink is a fucking drink. "Alright, calm the hell down," I backed down. "What do you have?"

He scratched into his long, held back, chestnut hair. "You want Jack Daniels or some of the Chinese _bail-fucking-jaiu_ crap?"

"I'll take the Jack, quarter-shot." It didn't make sense for me to drink what the barman, or even I, couldn't pronounce correctly.

"Alright," he seemed to have mellowed a bit when I gave him some of my stashers. I was surprised he didn't try to kill me when I ordered that. "I donno how much of the alcohol it's lost though."

"Fine with me," I shrugged.

He poured me a quarter shot of the whiskey, which I quickly gulped it down in one shot. Its alcohol must have worn off, it tasted pretty stale. It seemed to taste better than the Chinese crap he was talking about. I felt the brown liquid pulse throughout my body, not knowing if it was from the whisky or the radiation that seemed to get its way into anything. It was probably the radiation.

Not having an urge to talking with Megan again, I did something completely against my instincts, to try to start a conversation with this imbecilic asshole. "So what's your story?" I asked.

"Me?" he pulled out a stained and rusted steak knife and started polishing it with a cloth. "Nothin' much about me. Name's Ian Marcos, been running this shithole as long as I can remember."

"There must have been someone before you; this bar wasn't built in a day," I commented, leaning my elbows onto the bar.

Ian's knife dropped and stabbed into the wooden deck, "Well no shit, Sherlock," he grumbled, tugging the knife out of the floor. "It used to be run by this womanizer named Edward Burkeholder, tried to seduce any woman trying to come in to kill herself."

"What happened to him?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grabbed the knife and flung it near my direction, a little too close for comfort, lodging itself into the wall behind me. I could only imagine if someone was standing behind that, freaking out at the sight of a blade sticking out. "Dammit," he seemed to be apologizing. Was he? I don't know. "The same day this guy named Tenpenny comes in, Edward leaves without a fucking trace. Guess he got a good deal brown-nosing that old fucking geezer around."

"Sorry," I tried to empathize with him.

"Ah, Fuck him. I'd shoot him if he dares to show his face around here again," he shrugged off, going to work on another shot glass. "Bastard thinks he can run to the south and be a flaker. Hah! I can beat his ass anyday!"

"Cheers then," I offered.

"You've got to be shitting me if you expect me to toast with an uncharged glass," he observed, giving me a look that told me I didn't have a sliver of class. I'm just a goddamn fresh-outta-the-vault Vaultie, I don't know these things.

"What's an uncharged- "

Suddenly the door flew open. A short, blonde haired woman seemed to crash through the door I came into a while ago. She limped forward as her tattered pre-war hoodie and track pants dragged across the floor. Those monstrous size bruises on her body and the lashings all across her back didn't look like it came from a human. It looked like it came a monster. Blood trickled down from her forehead and stained her blouse, if it could be called that.

"You're the one right? The one who everyone goes to," she mouthed weakly. Pleading, for something.

"Yes, that's me," Ian answered almost sympathetically, but stoically. "You've got to be really damn sure or fucking desperate about this. I don't like givin' it to people that turn into a pussy so easily."

She weakly and wordlessly nodded. Ian and I helped her to the end of the bar. She couldn't walk too far without looking like she was going to collapse head over heels. It was a miracle. I don't know how she made it up here, much less alive. She tried holding her clothes up, as if concerned they were going to melt into her skin.

Ian recited a blessing:

"May the raindrops fall lightly on your brow  
May the soft winds freshen your spirit  
May the sunshine brighten your heart  
May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you  
And may God enfold you in the mantle of His love."

He pulled out a silenced 10mm pistol from his side, pointed it at the woman, and took aim. "I ask again, dear woman, do you commit yourself?"

"Yes, I do."

"Requiescat in pace," Ian said as he shot her. A clean shot right into the forehead. Short, quiet, eerily blissful. What more could be said. She dropped peacefully, bliss from the savageness inflicted on her earlier. She asked for it, and frankly, I don't blame her. I'm just lucky I haven't been shot or beaten up yet.

"Why do you do it?" I asked naively.

Ian lit up a cigarette. "Cause the doctor's fees are enormous, the mortician charges by the hour, an' I do all this bullcrap for free," he casually puffed. "Guess who people are going to pick."

I shrugged my shoulders, "Yeah, seems reasonable." Megan would have thought otherwise, she'd be mortified if she saw all this. Introducing her to this guy was a terrible idea.

"Used to be worse, it used to be after services were provided under Edward," he sighed. It's still strange he'd do it for free nonetheless. "What a callous bastard. He knows I have a pretty good memory an' I did all the shootin'."

If he has a good memory, maybe he could help find my dad. "Ever seen anybody come in that-"

"ALL HANDS TO MUSTER, THIS IS NOT A DRILL," the announcement blared loudly over the town's loudspeakers; loud enough that the both of us could hear it through the bar's walls. "I SAY AGAIN, ALL HANDS TO MUSTER, THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

"What's muster?" I vacantly ask. I don't know what the hell he's talking about.

"Shop's closed!" Ian yelled. "Move your ass outta' here! We've got raiders!"

I instantly followed him out, checking myself for my pistol and my Weatherby rifle. Finally some action! I've been waiting to shoot something. It's probably not going to be the overseer, but it's something. Yes! Something, finally something to shoot at! I thought my itchy trigger finger would never be used after the Vault. It was the perfect opportunity to try it out and press my luck. I was feeling lucky today. Lucky enough to send any goddamn super mutant face straight into the ground.

* * *

I stood up on the rafters of the town, looking down the sights of my Weatherby rifle, having a raider in my sights. After someone was stupid enough to try to negotiate with them and he got shot and killed, we got the order to open fire. It just lit up with the number of tracers heading down there and coming back at us. My little firefight in the vault was absolutely nothing compared to this. Bullets flying past my head, the noise of the guns, and the screams of other people; it was intense. What in hell did I get myself into? I was eager about some action but my attitude changed when the bullets started flying.

I concentrated on the female raider in front of me and pulled the trigger. I could still see the burning fierceness in her red eyes with the dirt and grime patches around her face. A sharp bang from my rifle and just like that, she just dropped. Remorse or sympathy for human life was little to nonexistent compared to the Vault. I was bound to know somebody in the vault. Here, nothing mattered anymore; you could die and no one would give a damn in the world. It's too costly to have a funeral here, especially how useless they were. Your body would be rendered to dust in days, forgotten, just scratched off the face of the Earth without a trace.

I rotated the bolt back and pulled on it, cycling another round into the chamber. I used the VATS system hooked up on my PIP-BOY. It broadcasted an infrared pulse and highlighted a targeting beam, giving me a rough chance to hit whatever I was targeting. It was not perfect, but it would do nicely. I zoomed in on the next raider taking the shot before the bullet went through one side of his head and out the other. I was too focused in my own space to worry too much about the screams and gunshots all around me. All of the vital sounds were being re-rendered into an unintelligible mush. I liked VATS for that.

When the entire town finished the last of them, we thought that was it. The entire town celebrated, the guys on both sides of me sure did. Yeah, we were dead sure that was it. I had two confirmed kills and we were discussing about going to Ian's place for a stiff drink. That grumpy fucking asshole need some business anyway.

"ALL HANDS REMAIN AT BATTLE STATIONS," the announcement blared over the loudspeakers. "I SAY AGAIN, ALL HANDS REMAIN AT BATTLE STATIONS."

"So much for that," I grumbled. This can't be right, as if another wave could attack us.

Sure enough though, another group of raiders showed up. As if I didn't waste my ammo on the last one already.

"Son of a bitch, another WAVE? I don't have much left," I heard the murmurs spreading across the deck.

I couldn't think too much about it as I found myself once again locked in the middle of combat. I tried to lay down a stream of fire as best I could, cycling rounds out of this bolt action piece as fast as I can. It's amazing this rifle could take the abuse of working the bolt after all this time. Those raiders were smarter than the last group, taking cover whenever possible. Some of them fleeing and taking shots at us while they ran off to regroup. We didn't manage to kill all of them, but enough to scare them away for now. I didn't have much luck this time; not a single kill.

Though we did not celebrate after that wave, we were beat and ready to call it a day. I know I was, I didn't have too much of the ammo they gave me before this all started. I panted heavily, that must be it. I was ready to sling my rifle over my shoulder when we heard an unmistakable roar of something big. I've read about it the Overseer's notes. It couldn't be them, couldn't possibly be them. They should be concentrated more toward the East, near the city. They shouldn't be coming here. I could feel the ground tremble beneath my feet, my eyes widened, I stood in shock and horror.

They were coming, super mutants.

"NO THINK…HEAD HUUUUUUUUURT!! I REMEMBER HOOOOME!! WHA'PPENED!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" one of them roared.

I guess they just happened to stumble upon this merry little craphole out in the middle of nowhere. They looked hideous with their lime and gray tinted skin, their rags and metal seemed fused to their body. I was instantly repulsed by them. I did what anyone would do when encountering something as ugly as them. Checking VATS one more time, I looked at my PIP-BOY to verify hit percentage, aimed for a shot to the head, and pulled the trigger. I hoped they bit on a fucking bullet, piss off, and died quietly.

Despite VATS saying I only had a 25% chance of hitting it, I could see the bullet impacting the skull. How about that? A perfect headshot! I was so sure that was a clean kill! My first mutant kill! Imagine my shock when it didn't drop and it was still moving, ready to fire, even though it was shot clean in the head. What the hell!? If it could down normal people, why wasn't it working on mutants?

"Auugh! Head HUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRTT!!!" I heard it roar in pain. I think my ears were in pain. "ARUUUGAAAH!!!!!!!"

It sounded like a scratched foghorn record was playing at full volume. It was worse than the ghoul encounter. I ducked and covered my ears at the sound of it. I hated it! Hated it with every pulsing vein in my body!

I popped up from my position and took aim at the super mutant one more time. Checking my Action Point level on the PIP-BOY and I noticed it was kind of low. I decided to aim it without VATS to not waste my AP until it recharged. It was going to take a while, like the most reliable technologies. My aim was a bit slightly off, still recovering from the experience of going into VATS. I was focused on that one shot to down the bastard to make sure it died. Anywhere didn't matter because if I hit it, they would almost certainly be dead.

I barely noticed a bright flash of light coming toward me. By then though, it was too late as felt something impact my shoulder. I knew I was hit, there wasn't anybody throwing dodgeballs at me, that's for sure. I yelled out in instinct. Look at the wound wouldn't make a difference, it'd still be there. I just hope it wouldn't be too bad. If it was supposed to be a hard hitting bullet that came from the super mutant, I wouldn't have noticed.

The wastes were fading around me, the deck was getting darker, and the sun turned a bloodthirsty tinge of red. The sharp pangs of gunshots were now dull thuds, as were the dull voices I thought were screams. My legs gave out from under me as I sank onto the deck, my arm failing to support me up. My breathing turned incredibly raspier and heavier as I struggled from the growing weakness. If this is what being shot in the shoulder felt like, I'd imaging being shot in the torso would feel much worse.

"TODD!" I could somehow make out a voice. It must be her. I smiled to myself a little bit. I have faith in her, which seemed to dissolve my apprehension of someone robbing my body and stripping me of my rifle. Staying conscious for a little while longer was a difficult task to accomplish. At least I tried to not make her worry too much. Damn her, she worries too much about me sometimes but she'd probably chew me out when I regain consciousness. Very typical as after I've been a bullet sponge for the whole day.

I blacked out shortly after that. I don't remember too much, only the feeling of my body being dragged across the deck, anything else was inconsistent.

I guess I'm relying on luck to keep me alive, I hope.

_TO BE CONTINUED...?_

_

* * *

_

_I want to thank to Argente and Fire Kunai for the reviews and the alert._

_This story features zGreece's character in collaboration with myself. I want to thank zGreece for putting up with my PM's, critique on revising it, approving it, and dealing with the anxiety of waiting. Yes, its in, it's done. Hope you like it. As always please read and review!  
_


	6. Chapter Six: Lazarus and Dives

**A/N: **Hey everyone, is everyone doing alright? I'm back with another update. Lets just say daydreaming in Biology class is at least productive for something. Other than that I have been mostly been busy with all kinds of mid-terms, exams, and other nonsense I had to attend to. I will be in Japan for spring break, a future update will be longer than usual.

I want to extend a thanks to Fire Kunai, Mr Wang 330 (and alerting), and zgreece (even though it was in a PM) for reviewing. I also want to thank oryan1 for faving this.

I must clear up the little jab at Fire Kunai at the last chapter. Was it meant to be an insult? Absolutely not, I was just merely joking. I was toying around with ideas of Ian providing his weird humor. I'll admit, it sounded a good idea at the time. I am aware that there was heavy confusion between me and Ian. I'm sorry. I'd wish I could explain in more detail but I know you read for the story.

Again standard disclaimer: **_All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course my (and in this case zGreece's) character(s). I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review. _**

**_I am also open to anything you want to see in this story, just ask. Just PM me or leave it in your review.  
_**

**_

* * *

_**"_He scorns them now, but oh they'll suit full well _

_With the purple he must wear in hell."_

_-Richard Crashaw_

**Chapter 6: Lazarus and Dives**

I stirred around a bit, wondering where the hell I was. a bright light pierced into my eyes, was I still outside? Or more importantly, am I dead? Where am I? I sat up and held my hands to my eyes, rubbing them, getting them used to the sights around me. I still couldn't tell where I was, it was still quiet, though I could hear a murmur in the distance. Someone was coming! I patted myself down, who took my weapons? Is this person going to kill me? I thought at the moment I was screwed. Oh dear God I was screwed!

"Hello, Todd," Megan walked in with a smile on her face. A poorly disguised smile, I could at least see through that. "Feeling better?"

I looked at both of my shoulders. I saw a tiny hole on my left shoulder where I got hit. Another stimpack should do the trick, I'd say the healing would be almost done.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I shrugged. "Where am I?"

"I can answer that," I heard someone coming from behind Megan, stimpack in hand. It couldn't be. "You're in the bar's back room," Ian said. "Little missy whiney-bitch and a couple others dragged you here after your little screw up with mutants. That was a day ago," he explained wiping down the stimpack's needle with an brown and checkered old rag. What the hell was that stupid son of a bitch doing, wiping the needle with a rag!? He certainly wasn't thinking of injecting that into me right?

"At least I don't look like a fucking hobo," Megan growled. "Your clothes look like they were picked from a garbage can."

"It serves its purpose," Ian brushed off. "I'm just hot shit. Now then," he re-focused his attention to me. "Just one more dose of this and it'll be done and over with, I won't make any guarantees on this."

Oh, lovely. He snapped the needle once more and proceeded to inject the concoction of medical fluids directly into my shoulder. Was this even the way it was supposed to be done? I heard that the in the pre-war days that it was supposed to be injected into the arm, not directly into the wound. The stimpack shot into my shoulder, an excruciating pain filled my nerves. At least it was working. I could feel my body tense up a bit when the fluids went through into my bloodstream. It left me with a bit of a tingling sensation afterward, one that would hope not to experience ever again.

"You're a crap doctor, you know that?" I grimaced, zipping up my suit.

"I provide it cheap," Ian frowned. "Be thankful I'm the affordable handy-fucking-man around here as part of the town's crap policy of community-shittin' service." He slammed the door as he went out, probably to tend to his bar once again or to drink himself silly, one of the two. The two of us were left in an immensely awkward silence. She must still hate me for my stupid decision to take on mutants.

I wanted to break this awful silence. "Megan, I-"

"What were you thinking, Todd? I told you not to do anything stupid," she frowned.

"I'm drugged and I just got up after being shot in the shoulder, ring any bells?" I mumbled, still dazed by the drugs that sped toward the almost healed wound.

"Yeah, after taking on a super mutant. Genius Todd, fucking genius," Megan rolled her eyes.

"The raiders and muties pay well, that's all that matters," I straightened up. "I wasn't given any choices whether I could fight or not, but I'd rather have quick death than a tortuous one."

Right when I trailed off I could hear Ian reciting another one of his poems. God help the poor bastard. The son of a bitch probably has to recite that at least daily, if not usually twice or three times a day. The low popping sound of the gun was muffled by the sheet walls. As clean as a shot he could put it most of the time, assuming that he should hit his intended target, he shoots them from a point blank range. I don't know if he did it for pity or anything else. He did it probably just to reduce the number of people that could complain or be naively sympathetic to him.

"Don't tell me," Megan wondered in horror.

Typical Megan. "Yeah. It's like the wasteland breaks every soul that dares set foot on it."

"But he doesn't have to…" she tried to reason.

"The people demand it," I shrugged. "Nothing you can do about that."

"Of course I can't!" Ian dragged in another unconscious body, gave him another injection of a stimpack, and then threw him out into the street without a care in the world. We were both stunned. How could he just throw people out into the streets like that?

"The elements will sober him up," Ian remarked. "Stupid-ass barfighter."

"And speaking of sober," Ian looked at me. "I hope you're sobered up from the medications, can't have you here leeching enormous shit off me."

"I am," I tried in my best convincing tone. "I have to ask you something though; did you see a guy that kind of looked like me?"

"No," he flatly said. "A crapload of things happen to go down in the bar. I don't think…wait, now that you mention it," he changed his mind. "I think a person came in here looked nearly like you..."

"Can you tell me where he went?" I asked.

"Of course not," he flatly answered. "Absolutely not. You have your secrets, I have mine, and I don't want to freaking hear yours."

"Got anything for me to do? Then… I'll work for it," I shrugged. I was really desperate, really out of options.

"I think I have something. There is a person that lives by Brooks Pond who owes me a bit of a sum of money. Whether you get the payment or kill him is up to you. In any case, report back to me and I'll talk."

"Can't you come along with us?"

"My bar is my pride and joy. There is no way I am fucking leaving her to accompany some punks on a simple task," Ian firmly stated and walked back into his bar. "Smell ya' rats ass later! Get killed or something!"

I didn't know where to go, what to expect, and to top it all off, not too much in the way of finances. Sure I had some stashers and a bit of ammunition left over from the previous battle, but it was not much, and it might wear me down while traveling in the burning heat. My shoulder was probably fine and I could still shoot. Shoot like a turd, but at least I could still shoot, there was always VATS to take care of the rest. Deep down inside I was crazy or stupid, probably both. Hopefully this guy has information on wherever my dad ran off to, or even better, how to navigate through this wasteland landscape of acrid dust, barren hills, and lifeless rocks.

I felt a dull thud on my back… oh yeah, and useless, old garbage thrown by Megan.

"Are you deaf?" Megan asked irritably.

"Let me take a piss first and I'll get back to you," I walked out the back door. She is annoying sometimes but I still hold her in high regard. She still thinks the same way as me, but maybe I rubbed off on her a bit. Has my smartass personality really rubbed off on her that much? I'd doubt it.

* * *

The two of us had been probably walking for around an hour since we left the Smiling Buddha. I thought Megan didn't like walking in this perverted wasteland. Is she finally sucking it up because of me? I don't know. I asked her earlier if she wanted to stay behind but she came anyway. It was definitely not something worthwhile to argue over. Besides, I wouldn't have liked to have stayed in that room all day just doing nothing; I would've shot something, or worse killed somebody. Then I'd have the town turn on us with their guns and we'd be shot up faster than you could say super mutant.

What kind of place would this be if it wasn't a wasteland? Maybe the lively trees lining the streets or the groomed, manicured lawns that I've seen in our textbooks would be all over. People joyfully driving a Chevrolet, Ford, or Chrysler; things that looked so much fun to do. It must have looked like a great place to live and have kids. It seemed so nauseatingly good back then. They had the time of their lives but suddenly they ended modern human convenience by pressing a few fucking red buttons and made every person's life born afterward as fucking miserable as possible. Maybe they could've tried not to postpone the death of human race by not building Vaults, we'd commit suicide faster.

Here, centuries into post-apocalyptic bullshit, there's always a trade-off, there's no magical free ride here. It was natural selection at its worst, I don't know how people could live with it and just say something like "Shit happens, drive on."

I saw what looked like traders on the road ahead, their weary brahmin resting in a tight circle in front of a barely standing stone bridge. My PIP-BOY flashed green twice in excitement, giving me the message, "You have discovered Trapper's Crossing!" I'd thought it'd be more generic, I don't know, something like "Medford Bridge" according to the signs that we passed along the way. One of them took out a revolver and the other two did the same shortly after that, pointing the barrel in our direction. Magnum would be my first guess but I didn't want to guess wrong.

I put my hands up in the air and motioned Megan to do the same. "Don't worry. We just want to trade," I called out as clearly as possible as we both approached. The center one lowered his weapon first, he must be the lead guy.

"Alrighty, a customer," I heard the trader dust off his arms and blonde hair with his aged hands. He took out a clipboard. "Whadduya wanna buy?"

I had a list of things in mind but Megan cut me off. "I'll handle it, Todd," she said, pulling out a plastic bag full of stashers.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"This was your bonus for your services, you were too knocked out to accept it," she smirked a bit, conveniently expecting me to just shut up. "Don't worry Todd, it'll be put to good use."

"Alright, whatever," I shrugged. I waited a few moments as Megan proceeded to clean me of most of my entire hard earned bonus on purified water and a few outfits that we could use instead of our blue vault suits. They were not comfortable to wear at all but at least we could blend into the environment better and looked cooler. I don't know of anyone that loves to wander around in those terrible blue tights.

"Thankies!" I head the trader grin in delight.

"No problem," Megan smiled.

"You guys know where Brooks Pond is?" I asked, hoping that they knew, they were traders after all.

"You'd be wise to avoid that area, lotta men got strangled there," I head one of them say.

"Yeah, don't forget the Aflacs," one of them mentioned, puffing a cigarette.

"Alfacs?" I wondered.

"Yep, 'ts what they call 'em. Description defies belief."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll know what I mean when you see 'em."

"Alright, but where is Brooks pond? It's really urgent." I tried in my most convincing tone possible.

"Cross the bridge and it's to the north-north-west," one of them said. "Don't say we didn't warn ya. It's a terrible screwed up place."

"Thanks," I waved off as the two of us crossed the bridge over the slow moving, brown-colored muck swirling from under us. No doubt that was radioactive and polluted, like most water sources. It had a bad stench to it, like people threw dead bodies into the river all the time. I just hope one of them wasn't my dad.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right place, Todd?" Megan took a sip of some of the purified water she had, looking around for the cabin.

"I think so," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. Damn, these things Megan bought are irritating my neck so badly. "I've been following NNW on my PIP-BOY. Should be around here somewhere…"

"Alright! hopefully we can get this-"

*HONK!*

"Eek! What the hell?" Megan yelped.

Yep he was right, they defied belief. So much for the docile creatures we read about in our field manuals, I couldn't believe it was even possible. Its head was bobbing up and down in the low grass up ahead; its green, beady, reptilian eyes looking around in every direction. It probably knew something was amiss, something was in its territory. It went back to soaking up the blistering rays in the low grass up ahead. I couldn't tell if it was exactly a bird or a reptile, it had hind legs just like a reptile but it seemed to have short stubby wings like a bird. I certainly didn't want my ass crushed by the jaws on that thing. Those rows of sharp teeth on its snout looked particularly menacing, they definitely haven't been cleaned in a while.

Why the hell did I agree to do this? I hid behind a broken tombstone. Good thing the weeds were there to cover us as we inched forward on our bellies toward the shack I could barely discern beyond the rows of lifeless twigs. The first thing that came to mind was a minefield of ugly and pathetic looking animals that could really bite any part of my body off. I'd easily die from the blood loss from losing multiple limbs while these creatures would gladly feast on my body. Not an incredibly pretty picture, like those ones that advertise Shark Week or some shit on a pre-war TV channel.

The both of us inched forward as best we could, taking care to not disturb the aptly disturbing looking local wildlife. After what seemed like a good few hours, a lot of chest crawling, and a lot of dust in both our mouths, we made it to the creaky old porch of the shack.

I gently pried the door open with my rifle, expecting to find a trap behind the door. Thankfully, there weren't any traps behind that old, deteriorated door with its rusted hinges. I crept forward into the cabin with my rifle up to my shoulders, slowly clearing the place. Megan followed me behind with her pistol drawn as well. I don't know if she ever used it since being in the vault, but it wouldn't hurt to have another gun in handy.

The only thing interesting that was there was a radio just playing useless static and the body of a lifeless man slumped over a chair. I checked his pulse and didn't find any. I slung my rifle over my shoulder again and searched the cabin for the bounty of stashers Ian was looking for. Some of the things looked interesting, like a Nuka-Cola truck with its front-left-side tire missing. Megan wasn't too inclined on looking around though she probably imagined who could have lived here.

I soon found the stash of currency under the bed, I reached to grab it.

"Ouch," I said as I cut one of my fingers on the splinters on the uneven wooden floor.

"You alright, Todd?" Megan asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I shrugged off the injury. "Nothin' to worry about. Let's head back."

"Good idea, Todd," she smiled. I followed her out the door. My next challenge was how we were going to get back up without falling on any one of those things.

*Honk…*I heard one of them raise their head, apparently sniffing something. Its head froze, its snout adamantly pointing in my direction.

"Megan, go back inside," I apprehensively ordered her. She must have sensed the fear in my voice. I heard the door open and close behind me.

Another one of them cried out with its irritating shrill. What could be so interesting for them? Was it the clothes I was wearing? Was it the clinking of the stashers hitting each other? One of them was charging down from my right. That was weird, I didn't have anything in my right hand. They looked so undisturbedd a while ago. I looked at my right hand and noticed a faint stream of blood going down my finger, like a drop had fallen off just a few seconds ago. Rubbing my fingers together, I came to a stunning realization.

Shit! They're bloodthirsty.

More like hardcore bloodthirsty, how did they smell that incredibly tiny speck of blood? Raising my rifle up to my shoulder, I shot at the animal through the sights that have seen much better days. I must've hit it in the thigh as it suddenly stopped, frantically trying to pull its head and the rest of its body forward, its hind legs struggling to get traction on the dusty ground. It flapped its short and stubby wings in a desperate attempt to get airborne. Stubborn little bugger.

I decided to leave it there and not finish it off. More approached me; I didn't have ammo to waste to guarantee a 2-round kill for every one of them. I shot the next one and killed it but when I rotated the bolt back, aimed down the sights, and pulled the trigger...

*CLICK*

Crap, don't jam on me now. I hurriedly fiddled with my rifle to try to clear the round out of the chamber when I heard one trying to jump me from behind. I entered VATS, targeted the one right behind me, and took a swing at it as hard as I could with my rifle. I heard a dull thud behind me as I stumbled back into the cabin.

"Todd! Are you hurt?" I heard Megan gasp.

"I'm OK," I said, gritting my teeth. "Damn those nasty little bloodthirsty suckers."

I caught my breath in relative safety; VATS really took a toll on my body. I wasn't expecting to be this tired after entering VATS only once. What a pain in the ass.

"We gotta bust our ass up that hill, Megan. You ready?" I asked.

"Wait, Todd. What are we going to do about them?" Megan frantically wondered.

"Just knock them out of our way! Hurry up, before more come!" I bellowed.

I kicked the door down and we both took off toward the top of the hill, swatting and kicking any of those creatures in our way, jumping over broken tombstones, our outfits getting ripped a little by the thorny underbrush. I saw Megan stumble in the corner of my eye, with another one of those things closing in on her. I pulled out my pistol and shot the bastard a couple of times. I don't know if I killed it but it finally gave up.

We both caught our breath at the top and then set out to return to shove this bag of stashers up Ian's ass. I was determined to get moving this place and to find him. Ian and my dad definitely have a lot of explaining to do. My dad more so but I felt better taking revenge on Ian first.

* * *

I marched my way through the dusty streets of the Smiling Buddha. Ian better have a damn good excuse of sending us to do the dirty work for him. I walked up a short hill to the ever so familiar bar run by that cocky son of a bitch. I walked through that familiar rusty, corrugated iron door, making sure to keep both of our heads down in anticipation of the steak knife that would be aimed at us. Sure enough, I felt something fly past above my head, with the sound of two steak knives lodging themselves in the wall behind me. No wonder Ian keeps fiddling with them, they must get dull really fast by getting lodged in those walls.

"Oh, its missy whiney bitch and her fat-ass boyfriend," Ian commented, grabbing another pair of knives. "Thought you guys were another group of barfighters."

I was not amused, dropping the pack of stashers violently on his counter-top. "Cut the crap, Ian. I hope you're prepared to hold up your end of the bargain," I demanded.

"Calm the fuck down," Ian grumbled. "You make it sound like the end of the world." He ruffled his hair a bit. "From what I could overhear, he probably went to Castle Bravo…"

He was silent for a few moments. "Well, where the hell is it!?" How the hell does Ian expect me to know where that is!?

"As in hell if I know," Ian shrugged. "That's what I could make out. I don't have a damn clue where that place is." He lit up another cigarette. "All I know is that there's a metro somewhere to the south east an' that this was left behind in my bar a few days ago which I don't fucking want," he grabbed a dusty holotape from under the bar. "Here, take it fatass!"

I caught it and put in my pocket, I'm definitely listening to it later. "You sure you don't wanna come with us?"

He pounded his fist on the counter, "You must have lost your balls, boyo. I'd never think about closin' this place to babysit some gerbil-looking kids who complain about half a damn! Candy asses," he scowled.

"You…" Megan gritted her teeth.

"Wha's wron' missey bitch?" Ian grinned maniacally. "Cat got yer tongue? I got all the time in the world to kill, unlike your boyfriend there."

Ian can put up a mean bluff, but I wasn't in the mood nor had the patience to call on it or let it get to me. "Whatever, old hag. Good luck making love to the bar," I blew him off before walking out. Megan followed me out shortly afterward, though I guess she wanted to insult his taste in dress one last time. We walked in the last rays of the setting sun in the Smiling Buddha before heading back to our little place at _Antimony's_ to just chill for the rest of the night. It would probably be our last night in the place; I'd probably go down to a ruined metro in the southeast to who knows where. That was the scary part, how long was it to Castle Bravo? Is it even still there?

I ejected the overseer's information tape and popped in the one Ian gave me. What I got was:

_I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand--  
How few! yet how they creep  
Through my fingers to the deep,  
While I weep--while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
One from the pitiless wave?  
Is all that we see or seem  
But a dream within a dream?_

It sounded nearly like my dad but what kind of bullcrap is this? It made me want to blow my brains out. Who the hell writes this? I quickly put the overseer's tape back in. His notes on the flora and fauna in the wasteland soon replaced the audio screen. I sat down on the chair we had in our room. I rubbed my eyes a bit, it was another long day, and it'd probably be another longer one tomorrow. Jeez.

I felt a pair of hands rubbing on my shoulders. It feels so good but I don't want to fall asleep in the chair. I tilted my head back, "Megan, I appreciate the massage but I don't want to fall asleep just yet," I smiled a bit.

She sighed and slid her hands forward, resting her head on my shoulder. "Todd, you're weird."

"Pssh, so what? I don't have a problem with it," I said. It was true, I have gotten used to it.

I heard the chair creak out from under me. "Sorry Megan, could you get off me?" I reluctantly asked. "I don't want to have a chair leg stuck up my ass the next morning," I weakly smiled.

Megan complied and I sat down on the edge of the much more supportive and dingy bed. Megan joined me and we probably sat around and stared at nothing for a few minutes. She rested her head on my shoulder again. I couldn't help but stay there, if she found relief from the messes of the wasteland by resting on my shoulder, so be it. I could at least endure that.

"Megan…" I murmured.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry…" I apologized, mostly for making her worry too much.

"Todd, you scared the crap out of me," Megan muttered. "I have nobody out here in this wasteland to count on except you. You know that." I knew that, she escaped with me; we swore we were a team in that abandoned sports center.

"You can't rely on me all the time," I rebutted, trying to at least sugarcoat a harsh reality a bit. "You know that as well."

"But you must think I'm just a burden," she mumbled into my shoulder. Why does she think she's a burden to me?

"Bullshit," I wrapped my arms around her waist. "You never were."

"Todd, look at me!"

Crap, I'm trying to comfort her, what does she want? The last thing I need is for Megan to try to extract a confession out from under me. I was not in the mood for another confession. She stared at me with her familiar green eyes, searching for something deep inside me. What was it? She tried to compose herself a couple of times before finally gathering the courage to say something.

"Todd, "she said. I never lost contact with her eyes. "If you say that I'm not a burden, what do you really think of me?"

I couldn't think of a clear answer. If there's anyone out there, HELP!!!

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

_**A/N: **_**The poetry is from Edgar Allen Poe's Poem _A Dream Within a Dream._**

Aflacs, well...in short alligator + duck, biology class produces some weird things.


	7. Chapter Seven: The Mutated & the Senile

**A/N:**

I want to extend my thanks to zGreece, rmctagg09, Argente, Mr Wang 330, and Fire Kunai for reviewing!

In response to rmctagg09's question about the Institute, Yes, it will be in the story. The Railroad will also be making their way into the chapters as well.

Standard disclaimer: **_All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other fan created characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review._**

**_

* * *

_**"_If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind." – Kurt Vonnegut_

**Chapter 7: The Mutated and the Senile**

I woke in the middle of the night again. What the hell did I do to deserve this? I don't remember having this nagging insomnia whenever I was in the vault. This was killing me. Was it because of the recent events and the added stress lately? All I know was that it couldn't be good, waking up in the middle in the night for admittedly random things on my part. Random; that described this abnormally sudden insomnia. I wasn't prepared for it and definitely had no ideas on how to fix it. If there was a god of the wastes, he must love torturing me with the lack of sleep.

I rubbed my forehead and my eyes a bit. Turning my head a bit, I saw Megan sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling with every breath. I'd wish I could be as peaceful as her right now. She looked so cute and innocent basking in the moonlight. It seemed to remind me of our days back in the Vault, where we were so innocent and pure compared to the outside world that changed all around us. Wait, where the hell are these thoughts coming from? Do I really have feelings for the person I put my trust into? What would be her reaction if she found out? What about the consequences?

I have definitely got to get these random thoughts out of my head. No, I don't see her as a girlfriend nor having innate erotic fantasies with her, but we're sharing a bed in the middle of a hellhole. I must be insane, stupid, or both. Damn, how in hell did it get to this?

* * *

_FLASHBACK_

"Todd, what do you really think of me?"

Crap. Why now? I'd really hate to be asked this question right about now. I decided to choose the first answer that came up in my head. I tried waiting for that perfect answer, that one miracle answer that could instantly get me out of a tight situation. That answer was,

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, 'I don't know'?" she repeated my answer.

Oh jeez. Here we go again. "Megan, I'm doin' you a favor and being honest here," I said. "I don't know. I honestly don't know."

It was true; I was more concerned about our challenges up ahead than our personal relationships. That was definitely my job not to worry about it. I really didn't want to slow down and possibly stay here an extra night because of this. Being bogged down in the interpersonal details was not one of the things I wanted to sort out at the moment.

"I hate the uncertainty," she said.

I could only hopelessly admit, "Yeah, me too."

"Todd, can you do me a favor?" she asked a little timidly.

She wasn't known to ask for many favors within the vault if can remember correctly. I probably needed to make up for my little brush with death anyway; I must have scared her that badly according to her. The least I could do was to humor her and make her feel selfish without feeling bad about it. "Shoot," I said. "What is it?"

"Umm... Can you sleep with me tonight?"

"Megan," I said. "I've been sleeping close to you ever since we left the vault-"

"No. No," she shook her head. "I meant in the same bed."

I definitely wasn't ready for that question. That thought never crossed my mind. Seriously, sleeping together in the middle of a hellhole inhabited by at least one son of a bitch I didn't care to see alive? What was she thinking? Most importantly, we weren't even in an intimate relationship, we shouldn't be in one. "Wait, why?" I wondered in confusion.

"I'm just afraid of losing more people close to me. Is that OK Todd? Just tonight?" she pleaded.

Well, it wouldn't hurt anyone to begin with, especially with no perverted overseer catching this on camera in the vault and making some false rumors off of it. I guess I could at least humor this admittedly naïve request. "Fine with me," I said. I trusted her not do anything stupid.

"Thanks, Todd," She smiled. "Good night."

"Yeah," I mumbled off. "G'night"

I wondered what kind of situation I got myself into.

_END FLASHBACK_

* * *

I still did by the faint glow of the stars against the dimly lit moon.

Megan was muttering something in her sleep. I scooted over to her side a bit, not knowing exactly what to do, subconsciously running my hand over her hair and forehead once again. God, I was stupid, why was this the only way to keep me sane? Why was this the only way to keep my priorities in perspective? Why was this beginning to feel strangely, very comforting?

"Mmm…" she hummed in her sleep, blissfully unaware of what my hand was doing. I was exactly the opposite. I thought that killed all chances of me going back to sleep perfectly.

I got the Weatherby rifle I laid down earlier, rested it on the table, and began working on it with the light of my PIP BOY illuminating it with the ever familiar soft green light. I tried to work on it as best as I could without making too much of a sound. Not knowing why, but trying to clean my rifle seemed to put me at ease a bit, at least for the moment. Maybe it was confidence in my weapon? I don't know. I wish I could explore and clean through every nook and cranny this rifle had to offer but this ironically comforting tiredness was soon setting in again. I lost all sense of time but it probably has been about half an hour or so before I slipped back into the bed. Morning would come by soon enough, hopefully not more insane freak out moments.

* * *

The sun was up too early for my tastes, but I think the both of us were eager to get out of this obnoxious place and move on. We checked out of our dingy room, didn't say goodbye to the Smiling Buddha, and trekked onwards, crossing the vast, dusty wasteland in front of us. I'll admit, I'd rather not think too much about my dad or even Megan.

"I'm glad to get away from Ian," I said, slinging my rifle over my shoulder.

"Yeah, you got that right," Megan commented. "What an asshole."

We both walked in relative silence for a while afterward, only stopping for some short breaks to catch our breaths and to reorient my PIP-BOY a couple times. I didn't look forward to wandering around the wastes like this, but it was the best we had. If there was anything good to it, at least I thought we were heading in the right direction. The PIP-BOY compass was accurate enough.

I came across a shallow hill when I heard a commotion. I motioned for Megan to stay back as sneaked forward on my belly. I took off my PIP-BOY that was attached to my wrist and sent out a locator pulse. I forget what kind of wave it was but it was supposed to locate people if we were ever separated if we actually got the chance to wander outside for exploration parties. Not that we ever got the chance of course.

_Scanning… _it said. It'd probably only give us a few blips at best, like good vault technology would.

It flashed excitedly, _PIP-BOY LOCATED: PROCESSING INFORMATION…_

My internal anticipation lit up, who the hell could it be? Could it be friendly? Could it have food or water? Could it let us join them on an exciting journey across the wasteland? It could be,

_JORDAN K. THURMAN: OVERSEER, VAULT 111: GREATER BOSTON AREA VAULT. LOCATION: ARLINGTON, MASSACHUSETTS...  
_

My initial hope died right there. It figures, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Who else with a PIP-BOY would be smart enough to wander out here, so far away from any known vault out here? I motioned for Megan to join me up on the hill; apparently no one down there seemed to notice us. I noticed that one of them had a particularly interesting weapon on his hands, like my rifle except with a larger magazine. Was it an SKS? It sure as hell looked like one clutched with those hardy fingers. It could particularly come in handy though. A semi-automatic versus a beat up bolt-action rifle? The difference was clear; it was at least ten times better than what I had right now.

But right now though, I wasn't too sure if my ability to deal with VATS had recovered. Damn that Ian, just haphazardly injecting random fluids into my body, only thing good about him was that he did it for cheap, nearly free. Though the SKS was tempting, I'd be still satisfied if we had just sneaked around the camp unnoticed instead. Too many decisions.

"What are we going to do, Todd?" Megan whispered into my ear. I could only shrug, I didn't know. I waited for a few moments, carefully observing their movements when suddenly…

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

You have got to be shitting me. Why muties? Now of all times?! The two of us were sitting ducks at that moment, prime super mutant rib food. The people down below must have noticed it too, scurrying to pack up their belongings, no doubt terrified of the giant green, and anything but jolly giant. I couldn't get a positive identification if it was our former overseer I was looking at down there but it didn't matter. They were in our way, they looked hostile enough and I didn't care that I had to shoot to kill.

"I'm not too sure," I whispered back. "We're probably gonna have to charge into the camp." I didn't see any other way.

I took the rifle off my back, loaded four rounds into the magazine, and cycled the first round in the chamber as quietly as I could. I slid the rifle deftly through the weeds on the top of hill, making sure the barrel couldn't be seen if it happened to reflect the blazing sunlight. If they noticed my rifle barrel poking out like an unnatural stick in the wastes, I would be finished. I took a shallow breath before entering into VATS, with the familiar green boxes indicating target percentages appeared. I took aim at the guy closest to me, the one holding the rifle in front of him, then the pair behind him, and lastly the one in the rear. VATS better make these shots count; I don't know where to find more ammo for this rifle.

The first shot went in perfectly through the head, although VATS switched over to the next one too fast for me to see it clearly enough. The next two went in around I wanted to be, they'd both be dead within a few moments. I was disappointed with the last one. I noticed that the round only got him in the shoulder. What a pity. At least with a round like that, he should be down somewhere.

After my little encounter with VATS, the two of us sprinted down from the hill and into the camp. I made sure to get the rifle off its former owner. It looked like an SKS from where I was seeing it from, but it didn't look like it, I think it was a SVT-40 used by the fucking commies in the Second World War. I don't know, it looked useful. I also found a few good magazines of ammo on him, which he never used on us thankfully. We both took our hand at clearing out the camp made up of old and degenerate car trailers with our pistols. I didn't think I'd have to resort to shooting a radroach that would love to take a bite out of my face, but I could never be too sure.

"Is it safe?" Megan asked. I couldn't blame her. "Eww... it's too icky," she squirmed in disgust. I rolled my eyes.

"Eheeeww-, Its-a too icky-poo…" I tried mocking her under my breath.

*slap*

Dammit, that hurt. "Ouch! okay, sorry," I muttered.

"Hold on," I observed. "There's only three bodies here, could have sworn I tagged four."

"Todd, what are you talking about?" Megan asked, curiously looking at me with her green eyes.

The ground shook underneath us once more. Either it was an earthquake or a super mutant close by; I'm guessing it was the latter. When in hell does this place have earthquakes anyway?

"You don' wanna get digged by a mutie?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Megan eyed me suspiciously.

I sighed in extraordinary defeat. "Let's just get outta here." I holstered my pistol.

"You're terrible at vocabulary," Megan commented, following me out of the camp.

"It's called slang, homeeyy," I joked, making a silly face.

"You still suck at it."

"Shut up," I pouted. I heard a "SMEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL FFFFOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!" mutant call in the distance shortly after I said that. It nearly scared the shit out of me.

"Now start running," I said.

* * *

We quickly ran across the dusty wasteland with Megan trailing a bit behind. I for one was not eager to be mutant food. The red sun and the dry grass made it harder; it was almost like a tinderbox waiting to be set on fire. It didn't help that we were dressed like poorly maintained teddy bears some poor little girl long ago forgot for 200 years. My clothing was nearly driving me crazy at some point, but I guess it was better than our Vault suits. I'm nearly suffocating in them but I guess it was better than in an obnoxiously blue Vault suit. I slowed down to a walking pace so Megan could catch up to me. It's not like she's not fat or anything but I know she can't run for long.

"Todd, you know I don't like running," she complained.

"Neither do I," I admitted, taking a sip of the radioactive water I had. I have got to get used to that god-horrible taste. "But I'm sure you'd rather run than be dead."

"I guess," she shrugged kind of aimlessly.

I was getting a bit hungry, so I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out a can of _Underwood Deviled Ham_ and looked at it a bit, its label almost withered with the passage of time. Still making out the faded red devil on the cylindrical can, I looked at it suspiciously, wondering what it actually stood for . It must have been there to warn me of the devilish taste of what kind of crap was left inside. It could be rotten, it could be radioactive. I've never found food without any of those properties.

"You don't mind eating this do you?"

"Hold on, Todd," Megan said, running ahead of me a bit. "I think I see something ahead."

I followed her a bit to come across a monolith of concrete jutting out of the landscape. Some parts of it were partially collapsed, the mass of concrete and rebar strewn all over the place. As the both of us approached closer, I could see the glass was blown out. I saw a rusted, giant "T" in a circle imposing itself like a rusted pimple what the hell did it stand for?

_"_What is that?" I looked toward the massive structure. How did even stand up after all this? Was it the metro Ian was talking about? Those were just some of the many questions in my mind.

I approached cautiously toward it when…

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed when a bullet grazed my head. I immediately went prone on the ground, trying desperately to resist coughing on the dust and weeds that flew into my face. Just great, mutants nearly eating us for dinner and now a sniper?! I must have some messed up luck.

"Are you serious, another damn firefight?" Megan hissed, inching her way behind me.

I didn't reply, I just kept inching forward, hopefully trusting our beaten-up-teddy-bear-like outfit didn't make us stand out while crawling on our bellies.

I peeked up my head a bit. From what I could tell, there was a rotund guy on the left holding a rifle with a scope on it on an unusually brown apron. He was arguing with the dude on his right who was skinnier than him, with an unusually shaped mahogany hat; I think it was a bowler. The sensation of another bullet whizzing past my head immediately put my head back down on the chocking ground.

"_Trespessers veell be-a shut. Soorfeefurs veell be-a shut egeeen!!_ _I cun see-a yuooo!!!"_

What the hell is he talking about!? It was like a foreign language monstrosity that rose from the dead. I heard another voice, this time in a language I could understand. "We can see you. Come out with your hands up or you will be shot at again!"

I don't know why I did it, but I swallowed my pride a bit and slowly raised my hands up with the rest of my body following shortly afterward. Megan must've thought I was crazy; well, I am a bit crazy aren't I? Charging into a camp a moment ago and now this? They seemed rational enough, giving us a warning before shooting the both of us in the head. They couldn't be that bad to reason, right? If they had a soul, they'd let us in. If they had a brain, they could negotiate something for our information.

* * *

I must have gotten my hopes up again, dammit. Here we were in a concrete mess that looked like it was going to collapse every time the fat bastard opened his damn lips. I couldn't tell a word of what he was saying; thankfully, that skinny dude must be the interpreter. At least he can actually understand what the fat bastard is saying and translate it in freaking understandable English for us.

"_I em Ooleefer zee svedeesh cheff ... Boot vhee yuoo're-a un ooferveeeght cheeld, in a suceeety thet demunds perffecshun, yuoor sense-a ooff reeght und vrung, feur und unffeur veell elveys be-a tregeecelly skooed..."_

That made the whole structure shiver, I must be so damned amazed at that speech. I didn't care what he was talking about, something about overweight children and perfection? I only stood there and pretended to listen; I probably would have been shot if I had said anything otherwise.

Then he actually farted while I was trying to negotiate a few things with him and trying to figure out where the hell we were. Apparently, this place was called "Alewife Station", there were a couple traders that would come by every so often, and his farts could easily kill a few birds. Correction, it could KO a few bears, easily. Nothing too hard to memorize right? He could've just told us instead of us wanting to shoot ourselves over his obnoxiously long and terrible speech.

I'd wish I could snipe his fat head off but he could probably snipe us just by aiming from his fat hips. It's a great thing he isn't too smart, as we both managed to pass ourselves off as traders; that was too easy.

So here we were, in a bummed out station, with a fat bastard that has a fat pole up his fat ass, and well… the sun was going down again. I felt it was a good enough progress toward Castle Bravo or wherever the hell that place was. Megan was off hopelessly trying to find a shower while I was deciding what irradiated crap to eat.

"HEADS DOWN!!" I heard someone scream. Man, did we ever pick the wrong time to get into a firefight. Did firefights find us or was it the other way around? I saw a bunch of ghouls approaching, they couldn't be that bad. Ghouls couldn't figure out how to reload a gun if they were ever given one.

I didn't think much of it until a bullet went past my shoulder into the concrete. Apparently they at least knew which buttons to press on a gun. Even then I thought I was safe with all that concrete surrounding me, I guess not. I decided to test out the new toy I ripped off that dead guy. This was going to be fun, ghoul hunting.

I pulled back on the charging handle and let it lock into place, that satisfying sharp clicking sound seemed to make any day better. I raised it up and aimed it down the sights, picking out a ghoul that was fumbling with its weapon, and fired. It hit dead on, knocking it on the dust instantly. I took a few more shots at ghouls before the magazine emptied. Oh well, I wasn't wasting the rest of my ammo on a bunch of ghouls. I had better things to waste my ammo on.

I was so engrossed in my own thoughts that a metallic pinging sound caught me by surprise. It was unmistakable, that of an M1 Garand after its last round was fired, and its 30 aught-six clip automatically ejected. I saw enough pre-war films to recognize that sound. The shooter had her hair tied back; hold on, it was…

Megan? Where the hell did she get an M1 Garand from?

I could see her lips moving in frustration, possibly because she didn't hit anything before the clip ejected. I waited until the gunfire died down.

"Megan, where the hell did you get a Garand from?" I asked curiously.

"Todd, please don't hate me for this," she pleaded.

"Why? What happened?" I anxiously asked.

"I traded off your old rifle-"

"Why the hell did you do that for?" I was increasingly getting more irritated. Even though I wasn't particularly attached to that rifle like it was my first born child and that it was probably going to break down sooner rather than later, she better have a good reason for trading it off behind my back. "I was going to trade that off later you know."

She looked all around before bringing her face close to mine. "I don't know if anyone's listening," she whispered. "But whose idea was it to masquerade as traders?"

"That was mine, what the hell does it-" I hissed, I was definitely losing my patience.

I was cut off by Megan. "Because the fatass is becoming suspicious. I traded it off to keep our image as traders."

"So what?"

"I feel like he's spreading batshit insane rumors about us…" she nervously answered.

"I think you're seriously freaking out, Megan."

"Think about it for a second, Todd," she said, becoming more frustrated. "His word is like a god's. He could easily turn anybody who comes into this place against us."

"True or not Megan," I said. "I'm not worried about it, we're good-"

"Seriously Todd," Megan tried to cut me off once more. However, our stomachs' grumbling interrupted the both of our arguing. I have got to admit, I don't think the both of us were expecting that.

I shrugged sheepishly, "End of discussion," I said normally, without trying to hiss in her face. "Let's eat."

"Yeah," she smiled, with a hint of bitterness. I'm guessing she thought the lost the argument. "What's for chow?"

"This," I pulled out the slightly dented deviled ham can. I tried twisting the can open to no avail.

"Hold on, I got it," I said with slight frustration. Megan raised an eyebrow. Deep down inside, she must be having fun watching me struggle with a can, even though I had successfully raided a camp earlier in the day. Oh, the irony. Almost resorting to giving up, I pulled out my pistol and aimed at the can.

"Todd! Don't shoot it, stupid ass!" she said, walking over to the can. She seemed to give a can a good looking over before apparently taking something, stabbed it into the can, and turned it so that it cut the lid right off.

I was amazed. "How did you-"

"Fucking magic, Todd," she sarcastically muttered. "Fucking magic." Yeah, I deserved my ass being saved by fucking magic.

And so, our little meal of the entire day was a bunch of irradiated, cold, deviled ham as the winds howled through the structure we were in, all under the thumb of an irrational fatass that had Megan freaking out. Yep, I was starting to love the wasteland, where I would have to deal with lunatics while trying to find another lunatic, my father.

We both finished our meal and sat in a relaxed silence for a while. Three firefights for the day, I'm tired and I think I've had it. Hopefully there's not another one while I sleep.

I rested my body against a concrete pillar that seemed to be stable. "I still don't like what you did," I said begrudgingly, but honestly. I really had to get that off my chest.

Megan must have caught onto what I was talking about. "I know, Todd. I didn't like it either."

Anger was not something I should easily let out at the moment. "You act like you didn't have much of a choice."

"That's because I didn't."

"That excuse might've worked earlier; like back in the Vault," I said.

"Todd," Megan retorted. "Must you be so… dense?"

"What the hell?" I objected. Me? Dense?

"Todd," she unfastened her PIP-BOY, pressed some buttons, and gave it to me, obviously to read something. "If this can't make you think for a moment, I don't know what will."

I looked at her PIP-BOY, those ever familiar green letters appearing on the screen…

_Language: Unknown. Not Recognized._

_Performing transliteration method Alpha…_

_Vhet zee treder zeereffure-a prudooces, ebofe-a ell, ere-a its oovn grefe-a-deeggers. Its fell und zee feectury ooff zee vestelunder ere-a iqooelly inefeeteble-a. Zeereffure-a, keell zee treders thet ruust leeke-a a pereseete-a in yuoor nest, fur zeey cume-a tu rub yuoo ooff yuoor herd fuooght veelt… Zeey hefe-a bruooght zee deeseese-a oon yuoo, zeey moost deee-a_

"So what you're trying to tell me," I looked at her skeptically. "Is that this jumbled mess of letters is supposed to be a death threat?"

She nodded. "Can't you see it?"

"I can barely read it," I retorted, giving the PIP-BOY back to her. It looked like a kindergartner was trying to re-interpret The Gettysburg Address as a freaking teenage love story. "I'll take your word for it, but I'm not going to get apeshit crazy over one little note."

"Besides," I noticed her trying to make one final argument. "We got two badass rifles. What could possibly go wrong?"

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

_A/N: _That jibberish of strangely reworded text was filtered through Bork Bork Bork!, an add-on for firefox designed to turn boring ordinary text into wildly hilarious "chef-speak."


	8. Chapter Eight: Kýrie eléison

A/N:

I want to give a shout-out to rmctagg09 and The Stranger In the Raincoat for reviewing! (And of course to those people that read this and NOT review!)

Again you know the drill: **_All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other fan created characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review._**

**_

* * *

_**_"Personally, when it comes to rights, I think one of two things is true: I think either we have unlimited rights, or we have no rights at all. Personally, I lean toward unlimited rights - I feel, for instance, I have the right to do anything I please. But, if I do something you don't like, I think you have the right to kill me. So where you gonna find a fairer fucking deal than that?" – George Carlin_

**Chapter 8: Kýrie eléison  
**

"What could possibly go wrong?" I asked earlier, confident that a pair of battle tested, but still quite new wastelanders with two rock-n'-roll ready rifles were free from threats. If I had to make a comparison from when we left the Vault, I'd say I feel like that we were superior to the average waste-douches this land seems to be inhabited with. I thought we were invincible and had nothing to lose, except maybe our own sanity. I tried to stifle this enormous yawn as best I could.

The more I walked around this wasteland, I think I realized how small and relatively forgiving our world in the Vault really was. Has the Wasteland enlightened me? To a point, though I still think the both of us are pretty stubborn. I think I have turned into a battle-tested, battle-hungry, gun-loving insomniac that finds it painful to swallow my own pride for a moment. I could be wrong but that's what I felt at the moment. The wasteland must have done something to the both of us, though I really couldn't comment for Megan. I'm sure I'm not alone in the personality changes, though.

I looked at the night sky on the topmost deck with some of the concrete nearly crumbling out from under me. There were virtually no people up here. I guess it was much easier to just build a few makeshift dividers on the lower floors and just be done with it. Who'd want to live trying to fight a driving dust-storm if their life was crap to begin with already? I sure wouldn't try and build anything.

I lazily pushed a few buttons on my PIP-BOY, not really knowing nor caring what I had pushed. My PIP-BOY vibrated, catching me completely off guard. Frick…

_PRE-DESIGNATED CO-ORDINATE No. 1 "HOME": VAULT 111_

_APPROXIMATELY 3.0 MILE(S) NW OF CURRENT LOCATION. APPROXIMATE TRAVEL TIME: UNKNOWN.  
_

Only 3 miles? I thought we traveled a lot farther than that. Maybe it's because we were completely lost, stopping at nearly every place to find our direction and figuring out what the hell were we going to do next. More importantly though, home? What was "home" now? Was it that abandoned sports center? Was it the Smiling Buddha? No. We are wanderers now, only with a simple, but fleeting goal; find my dad. He could be anywhere really, the best hint I had was "Castle Bravo." Knowing it came from the asshole who said it, he could just be giving us false information for all I know.

"Wow, you're up super early," I heard Megan lazily comment as I rested my hands behind me on the crumbling concrete. _No shit, Sherlock, _probably would have been my smartass response if I didn't feel so groggy from the lack of sleep.

"Feeling homesick, Todd?" I heard Megan hesitantly ask behind my back. Dammit, I forgot to put in on stand-by. She must have seen my PIP-BOY.

I chose my words carefully. "It doesn't matter. It's not for you to know..." I mumbled, my voice just trailing off.

"It does matter, Todd." Megan chided me a bit."I thought you remembered that- "

"'We're a team'. Yeah I know that already," I irritably finished her sentence. "For all I know, we gotta get moving from this place."

"But-"

"If going home means going back to the vault, it's suicide," I calmly explained as best I could, not letting my feelings get in the way. "Going back to the Smiling Buddha is lunacy, going back to that abandoned sports center is stupidity." I stood up and wiped some of the dirt and the grime off my face. "And this place is going to collapse any minute."

I didn't look at her. Even if I didn't say it, I was anxious to move on. I must have realized that I would have something over my shoulder, at my side, or buried somewhere deep within my soul. It was just inevitable, I guess.

* * *

I pushed those thoughts back into my head as I tried to figure out how the hell we were going to get out of this place. I was getting kind of tired of crossing in the heat, since this was a station, there must be abandoned tunnels, a great relief. The fact that no one knew a way past this place seemed extremely suspicious to me, like people genuinely didn't know or were too afraid to talk. I'm guessing it was the latter. So we just nonchalantly wandered around the station, trying to act like we weren't ready to shut ourselves in and start a firefight. If our PIP-BOY wasn't there to keep track of where we went, we probably would've checked the same rooms over again, probably due to my lapse of judgment.

"It doesn't make sense," Megan wondered. "There must be a way to the next station."

I wanted a little cheap fun, as I was getting tired of focusing on the mundane ordeal at hand. I raised my left index finger and deftly, but firmly, poked Megan on her side.

"Ehee!" she shrieked, after stopping for a split second. "Todd!" she cried. I was laughing so hard. It was mindless entertainment, but it felt good.

My laughter suddenly weakened as she pulled out a strange looking device, looking like it was a modified camera with half of it covered in electrical tape. I didn't think of it too much until I saw a tiny spark jump from the thin wires that poked out of the top. My laughter soon turned to amazement and then to horror when I finally realized, she made a primitive stun gun! Oh shit! I bolted, obviously trying to run from a person that has the power of electricity at their fingertips. Crap! How the hell did she get her hands on that; or worse, how to make one!? I rounded a corner and soon came to a dead end. Lovely.

I pressed my back up against the debris pile of concrete blocks, looking at the pint-sized terror before me. "Don't shock me!" I pleaded. "Look, I'm sorry!"

"I'm not that mean," Megan coyly purred, obviously relishing in my moment of terror. "I just need someone to test this thing on."

She swiftly moved it toward me as the two loose wires soon made contact with my thigh. "Shit!!" I yelped as I recoiled from the painful electric shock, my feet scraping on the ground for a moment. It could have been worse nor was it life threatening but it was certainly not pleasant.

"Damn, it only lasts for one use," she looked it disappointingly. "What a pity. Now where were we," she deftly changed the subject. "Any ideas on how to get out of here?"

"Shut up," I said. I looked down and noticed something metallic, kicking it a bit. Noticing that it was some kind of handle, I slid it back, revealing a particularly intriguing and menacing hole. I shined my PIP-BOY over it. At least it looked shallow enough for the both of us not to break any of our bones.

"Well, ladies first," I quipped. "I _am_ the better shot after all."

Megan scowled a bit and reluctantly went down first as I stood by, hoping I didn't need to pry my rifle from my back. We were in a perfect position to be ambushed. Thankfully, I didn't have to freak out as I joined Megan down in the stuffy tunnel down below. We both strolled down casually with our rifles resting snugly in our hands. I'll admit, I'd would've never imagined Megan and I being proud owners of semi-automatic rifles.

I had noticed that the dosimeter on our PIP-BOY's just got excited. I would be watching mine closely. I think I read somewhere that it could cause dude sterility in a short period of time. Dude sterility. That sounded funny, unless it happened to me of course; then I'd be mercilessly mocked at.

I slipped through the slightly ajar door in front of me, leading to a long, slender hallway. The naked light bulbs flickered on and off as the dim light of my PIP-BOY highlighted the dingy walls that surrounded us. It honestly looked like it was going to cave in on and suffocate us alive.

Suddenly, a pair of ghouls dropped right in front of us. I swear these things come out of nowhere! Screaming or any kind of extra noise we could make was out of the question. Entering VATS was the easiest thing to do as I forcefully gnashed their heads open with the butt of my rifle. Shooting in such a confined space would have surely given us aay. As their bodies dropped to the ground; I wiped their rust colored blood off the butt of my Ruskie-made rifle and moved on.

* * *

Getting lost in the tunnels was definitely not my idea of fun. I thought a station was just a bunch a pair of platforms with tracks in the middle of it, simple as that! That's what it was described to us in our prewar crap! I also don't think I have seen a real skeleton in well, ever. I'd thought they would be ground to a fine, powdery dust after 100 years. I guess not, they still had their work suits still attached to them. It wasn't particularly sickening for me, but it was certainly a sobering new experience to say the least.

The both of us silently downed a few more ghouls before coming to another hall, this time surrounded by doors on either side, clearly a dungeon. There were some ghoul corpses on the cold, unforgiving floor we walked on, clearly being killed with a single gunshot. I don't think I could have described what has in front of me.

My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a low moan I heard coming from one of the rooms. I opened the door nearest to me to find a slender guy strapped to a rusted metal table, which I could tell was radioactive. His auburn hair was falling off in patches, had bruises all over his body, and was sporadically coughing up blood.

"Jesus Christ…" I said softly in amazement. He really looked like a mess. Who could have done this shit to him?

Megan nudged me forcefully implying that we had to save this guy. I found a set of switches to decrease the radioactivity to a non-threatening output while Megan freed some of the latches on him.

He was apparently conscious as he tried to speak, but Megan gagged him, thank God. Had he yelled out anything, he would've gotten all of us killed, or tortured.

I took out a stimpack and a pack of radaway and tried to thread the tube of the radaway package into the hopper containing the vital stimpack fluids. Gingerly carrying the pair of medicines so fragilely intertwined with each other, I carefully set it down on the table beside him. He must have seen the fatass needle because he started squirming shortly after I set them down, nearly knocking the medicine that might save his sorry ass onto the floor.

I flicked the syringe a bit, before looking at him a bit. "I'm no doctor," I whispered stoically. "But I know this is good for you, trust me."

With that shady assurance of mine, I carefully slid the needle into his arm. I'm not sure what kind of artery or vein I hit but I think I did a good job injecting the mixed bag of fluids into his arm. I would have sterilized it if only there was somewhere to do it. The only place I knew was the vault; I don't know where I could have found sterile needles in this bombed out hellhole.

I heard some footsteps. "Megan, can you watch him for me?" I typed on my PIP-BOY and flashed it to her. She nodded, and I quietly slipped out the door back into the hallway, making sure to turn off mine.

I saw a dim glow coming from the other end of the hall; it must have been a guard. Surprisingly, he turned his back for a moment. I took advantage of the opportunity and sneaked into another room.

"Thought I heard something…" I heard him mumble as he went past by me. I had to think of something fast. I didn't have a choice. I just grabbed my pistol, snuck up to him, and just knocked him out with a single blow to the head. I really didn't want to waste VATS on just this dude alone. I dragged his lifeless body through the nearest door I could find and slowly made my way back to check up on our reluctantly impromptu patient.

"There you are, Todd! Where were you?" Megan hissed, obviously disappointed with my lack of timing.

"Nearly got caught," I lowly muttered. "How's he doing?"

"He's great!" Megan said with muted excitement. "He translated the entire thing for us."

"Seriously?" I wondered in vain as Megan showed me her PIP-BOY. Well, more like shoved it into my face. I could make out most of the translation despite some of the smeared, dried blood drops that fell on it. She was completely oblivious to a guy coughing up blood! I guess she was that batshit desperate.

_What the trader [don't know] produces, above [?] all, are its own grave [?] diggers. Its fall and the victory of the wastelander are equally inevitable. Therefore [?], kill (or keel?) the traders that rust (or roost?) like (I don't think leek) a parasite in your nest, for they come to (rob or rub?) you of your hard fought wealth… They have brought the disease (what disease?) on you, they must die…_

Well at least she got what she wanted. I hope she was happy.

"It's the least I could do," he gruffly commented. "I should repay you- " he stuttered before coughing up more blood. "Name's Andy. You heard of the Sons of Liberty?

"I don't give a shit, you shouldn't even be walking," I looked at him sternly with my arms crossed. "I don't know how many packs -"

"I know, but I have to get back home. Now if you'll excuse me…" Andy said as he limped and stumbled out the door. What a waste of energy really. He obviously wasn't feeling very well, especially from the radiation.

I saw Megan resting nonchalantly against the metal cell wall. "Well?" she asked me curiously.

"If he wants to get himself killed, let him," I shrugged. I didn't have enough supplies or the expertise to treat his multiple radiation and physical injuries. I certainly didn't want my time to be wasted by treating this walking mess of a thing. "We gotta move on, hopefully to another station."

"Well- " I heard Andy cough again. The both of us curiously walked outside the cell to find Andy bracing his arm against the wall. "I just gotta get to Davis Square," he stuttered.

"What's Davis Square?" Megan asked.

"The next one over-" Andy could sputter out before coughing up more. Damn. He was going to attract more guards just waiting to subject us to the same fate he experienced before we saved his ass. The only problem was none of us wanted to risk getting contaminated by whatever fluid that came from him. Hell, it could even be radioactive to us! "I think there's a tunnel…"

"Oi, Mac! You there?" I heard from the opposite end of the hall, behind us. That was enough reason to move on and start looking.

* * *

I think I have lost my mind, letting a guy with hair and blood coming out every so often, leading us to hopefully, a magical tunnel that could solve all our problems. Megan and I just trailed behind him as he was too proud and stubborn to have us help him and I was not in the mood to be contaminated. Come to think of it, I've never encountered another guard since I smothered that one earlier. I had the feeling that they were watching us, just waiting to set us up for an ambush. Just exit out the tunnel and then _BANG!_ we were all going to be dead.

Andy soon came to a stop along a lone steel door along a deserted corridor. This had to be it, I surmised as he nearly collapsed opening the door, revealing an earthen tunnel leading to who knows where. I'd guess a convenient ambush site, but hell, my guess was as good any anyone's.

With our new companion in hand, we went into the depths of the tunnel. Companion didn't seem to be the right word, more like an expendable rotting meat shield. We reached the end of the damn thing soon enough, sooner if he didn't keep coughing up blood.

It seemed to deposit us at the top of a train platform. Beyond the corroded metal guardrails was a sea of grime and mess. It had a stuffy air to it, probably because we were located underground. Apart from the concrete and tiling, it still had a tinge of red left. The slats hanging from the ceiling showed a hint of red, as some of the many rods to the left of us were emitting a soft red glow throughout the place. Hell, the sign right in front of me said "RED LINE" with "ASHMONT / BRAINTREE" under it. Obviously the people who paint the place couldn't have come up with a better design scheme.

There was a train just sitting there, for centuries probably, still with the same "T" in a circle emblazoned on its side. The advertisements were at least still readable, promoting Nuka-Cola, _The Day the Earth Stood Still_, a good pack of Twix, and a cold glass of the fountain of youth. What kind of paradise was this place?

The three of us inched our way down and across the platform, definitely with my rifle in my hands, locked and loaded. Megan was probably a little more relaxed while Andy… well, he was out of luck with a weapon. Broken glass seemed to litter the platform floor, coming from the broken lights above.

We were stopped about halfway up by sudden static filling the station. "Ah, look the little bunny has made more, how fast they come!" an oddly familiar voice chimed through.

"Bunny? Shit..." was all that Andy could cough up before collapsing against a bench.

I had a different idea. "Oliver?" I wonder aloud.

"Of course, you stupid fuck!" it snarled back. "God… did you really think I was that _STUPID_?"

"What happened to your freakishly ugly accent?" I retorted. I noticed he didn't have any of that talking to me right now.

"Piece of crap! I eat foreigners for breakfast!" Oliver sneered. "The people don't mind." People don't mind? Yeah right. I'm guessing the ones he let live were the ones who survived his welcoming party. Either that, or they're probably all orphans. "Traders think they're on top of the world selling their shit, the people hate 'em and that's it really."

"See! I told you," Megan hissed. Why the hell is she blaming me? As if I knew anything about this crap!

"Indeed, she is right," Oliver mused, obviously having a bit of fun with toying with us a bit. "But enough of that," he changed his tone. "Enjoy your feast lads!"

"What feast?" Megan wondered. I think I had a better idea of what he meant.

"I think that feast is us," I said, aiming my rifle to where we just came from. "Hope you got enough ammo."

Sure enough, there were about three or four guys shooting us a short while later. I squeezed off a few rounds before taking cover behind an old Pepsi vending machine; Megan and Andy were close by thankfully. I went into VATS a couple of times, trying to use it as efficiently as I could. My SVT only had 10-rounds and my stamina was well, questionable at times. Megan was busy returning fire as well, though the pinging on the Garand seemed to resonate a bit, even with the bullets drilling holes into our cover.

A few more came to reinforce them. I couldn't say I had a blast but the adrenaline was definitely flowing. I tried to be a little conservative on my ammunition but going through a few magazines of oh-so-coveted ammunition was inevitable. Amidst the cries of "Reloading!", "Die, dammit!", and the hail of gunfire, I took aim, downing a couple with a few well placed shots. Dammit, my arms were getting tired from holding up this thing, not to mention my trigger finger was getting a bit sore. Those people that fire those "assault rifles" or whatever they were, had the shit. Just hold the trigger down and a spray of gunfire could cause a world of hurt.

As I bent down to reload another magazine I heard the cry of last thing I wanted to hear.

"GRENADE!"

Oh, crap! Grenade! I immediately dived toward the open train to my right and managed to get the door shut. The grenade exploded immediately afterward. I could hear some the shrapnel bouncing off the aluminum train wall and some of piercing the metal skin. I just hoped that none of it would hit me. Megan must have thought of the same thing too as I saw her firmly down on the rusted metal floor of the train.

"Where's Andy?" Megan tried to yell above the gunfire.

"I don't know!" I yelled out before re-focusing on killing the bastard that threw that. I had a feeling that Andy died in that explosion, the radiation took a heavy toll on his body and his mobility.

Megan also re-focused on the people shooting at us. She went in to VATS a couple of times, scoring some nice shots with that beautiful rifle. I heard it ping shortly afterward, the clip ricocheting off one of the doors. All was quiet, at least for now. I rested on the floor of the metro car, trying to have a moment to catch my breath.

That didn't last very long as I heard a gurgling noise coming from the other end of the car. It must be ghouls, should be a piece of cake. Dumb things couldn't walk their way out of a giant wet paper bag if they had to. I saw them lurch forward from out of the darkness, their brown, skin and bones frame seemed oddly fresh, like they were newly minted or something. Either way, they would all meet the butt of my rifle or the sole of my foot. I killed the first one swiftly, sending the butt of the rifle to the ghoul's head with as much force I could put into the hit.

I heard one of them scream out, like it was going to do anything. We both managed to dispatch the some of them with just our pistols, either by shooting them or whacking it over their shriveled heads. Hell, it worked. I think I'll save the last two for my feet.

The last pair of ghouls though, was messed up. It was glowing in a luminescent, fluorescent green color which I'll never forget.

"I've never seen ghouls like those," I wondered in awe. "What the hell are those!?" It honestly looked like something out of a science fiction experiment gone horribly wrong.

I was awed even more when it glowed brightly and sent out an equally bright fluorescent pulse. It made both out PIP-BOY's jostle with excitement. Crap! That was radioactive. How the hell?! I dragged my rifle toward me, reloaded it, and entered VATS again. Thankfully, VATS did their job and two radioactive zombies were dead. I don't think my feet would appreciate being mutated by that, so I skipped out. Next time.

I wandered back up the steps, partly to loot off whatever valuable stuff they had on them and partly to take in the changed atmosphere of the place. Their weapons were about the same as ours but they thankfully had a few magazines of ammo and extra stashers to spare for us since they were done using them. I didn't find a grenade on any one of them, though I'd probably start running if I did unless I'd want it to blow up in my face.

"Todd!" Megan called me from the platform; apparently she must have made another discovery.

I made my way over to her to find her standing next to the body of Andy, his lifeless body slumped over the bench.

"Oh, it's Andy," I muttered. My reasoning proved correct this time; he was definitely killed by the grenade explosion, probably from just the force of the explosion. I don't know how he could've moved out of the way fast enough. Yep, radiation sucks, so to speak.

"Todd, you've got to be serious!" Megan irritatingly said as I began searching his corpse. I didn't anything too terribly useful money or ammo-wise, just a short note and holotag, probably something to use to our advantage when we reached the next station. I can't believe she still has distaste for me looting bodies, especially this one when we knew him only for a short period of time.

"Ouch," Megan suddenly gritted her teeth a bit as she clutched her shoulder.

"You okay?" I asked, suddenly cutting short my looting spree. "Are you hit?"

"Just got bruised and scratched up a bit. You don't need to waste a stimpack on me," Megan said, noticing that I was reaching for one.

I felt the same sensation throughout my body. "Damn, the adrenaline's wearing off…"

"You okay, Todd?" Megan worriedly asked me.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," I said. I really wasn't in the mood to wasting another stimpack on myself either.

Our conversation was rudely interrupted by Oliver emerging at the other end of where we were standing, at the top of an escalator leading to an upper platform. "AAARRRGHHH!!! GODDAMMIT, WHY WON'T YOU DIE!?!" he moaned, so blinded by disparity he just started shooting randomly. What happened to that sniper and his unbelievable accuracy I first encountered coming here? It was probably all a fluke, maybe it was the guy with the bowler that did all the shooting, and him all the posing.

I raised my rifle and was ready to go into VATS when Megan rested her hand on my shoulder. "Let me do it," she assured me. "I know you're tired."

So I did. I saw Megan stand there unloading the Garand at Oliver with VATS. Maybe it was just me, but I saw him fall down the frozen escalator in a bizarrely slow motion, like I was in VATS. Either way, it was semi-sweet ending to our time in this place, not that I cared too much about it, only that it was part of a metro line that could lead me somewhere. The Garand's clip pinged as it ejected from the rifle, it's high pitch ringing throughout the station as it hit the ground.

"Beautiful shot, Megan," I commented, raising my left hand up for a high-five.

"Thanks," Megan high-fived me back.

As we both made our way to the end of the platform and past Oliver's body, I think I realized why his apron was brown was not from cooking anything except the ones that moved the most, talked the most, hell, even thought the most. Another one bit the dust, or rather the concrete one. Before I was ready to move on to the next station, I noticed a computer on a table at the top and climbed up the escalator to get there. It was really strange. Confident that I wasn't going to be killed while browsing, I sat down and turned it on.

_Welcome back fatass! Here's the thing you were looking at if you can't remember…_

"Wow. this computer has a weird sense of humor," Megan looked over. I wasn't particularly fazed by that. I was more surprised at the lack of a password.

_Sonoflib doc_

_So what were the Sons of Liberty? A bunch of lies, misguided punks, and hypocrites, is what they are. They are better off disappearing from this wasteland. I hate them so; they'd make a perfect delicacy…_

I didn't care about reading it all at that moment so I downloaded it to my PIP-BOY for future reference. More than likely though, it'd be used as a convenient barganing chip. Holding down the 'Escape' key for a few seconds, I found myself at the main menu. Nothing really caught my eye except for the last option…

_Tesla Oscillator (Earthquake Machine)…_

Wow. An earthquake machine! Now I've seen everything!

_Tesla Oscillator detected, attached to column King Ten. Frequency resonance controls disabled, unable to control or stop oscillations once in motion. Shutdown and disabling procedures still operational. Constructing approximate simulation and formulating recommendation…_

Can't stop it, huh? Makes things a lot more interesting.

_Simulation predicts uncontrolled complete structural failure via pancake collapse starting with the upper floors of the parking garage due to material deficiency. Collapse would likely destroy sensitive electrical equipment and gas lines, fire imminent._

_SET FREQUENCY (HZ): UNKNOWN_

_SET TIMER DELAY: UNKNOWN_

_RECOMMENDED SAFE DISTANCE FOR UNCONTROLLED DEMOLITION: UNKNOWN_

_CASUALTY ESTIMATES: HIGH_

_Console recommends DISABLING of Tesla Oscillator due to high collapse and fire risk…_

It flickered to another screen.

_Loading commands…_

_Please select command…_

_WARNING: ONCE SELECTED, OPERATION CANNOT BE RECALLED_

_ACTIVATE TESLA OSCILLATOR: OPERATIONAL_

_RESONANCE FREQUENCY CONTROL: DISABLED, SET FREQUENCY  
_

_OSCILLATOR DURATION CONTROL: NOT OPERATIONAL_

_DISABLE TESLA OSCILLATOR: ERROR 403 FORBIDDEN  
_

_INITIATE SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE: OPERATIONAL_

What should I choose? All of them seem so tantalizing.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Just a Public Service announcement.  
**

Hey there children, time for me to give you a lesson about radiation measurement!

In our world, rad measured the absorbed dose of radiation, meaning that while it indicates a given quantity of radiation, it does little to take into account the biological effect it has on a particular organisms, such as humans. The rad has been effectively replaced by the gray (Gy) which 100 rad equals 1 gray. The continued use of rad is "strongly discouraged" by the U.S. National Institute of Standards and Technology. In short, absorbed dose measures the amount of radiation it gives off, not amount of biological damage it causes. There are three types of radioactive particles, alpha, beta, and gamma, each with their own varying amounts of strengths.

What should have been used is REM, which is more applicable in talking about risks form radioactive sources (and poisoning from them). Note that REM attempts to gauge the biological effects of radiation that would be measured in rad outside the human body. Again this unit has been replaced by the Sievert (Sv) which 100 REM equals 1 Sievert and that the continued use of this unit is strongly discouraged by the NIST, even though REM is still in fairly common use throughout the US.

To summarize, rad (or gray) would be used for the amount of radiation, REM (or Sv) would be used for the severity of anything that involves living things being exposed to radiation. For the sake of simplicity and continuity in relation to the Fallout universe, I will be measuring radiation emitted, exposure, and radiation poisoning in rads and REMs, not in grays and Sieverts.

Unlike Fallout's science fiction rules of radiation, radiation in our world probably won't produce giant scorpions or zombies that can survive for 200 years and be healed by radiation. Get exposed to massive amounts of radiation here, and you'd die in a short amount of time. Obviously, that wouldn't make a very interesting story.

Fallout 3 uses this system:

0-199 No effect

200-399 Minor Radiation Poisoning

400-599 Advanced Radiation Poisoning

600-799 Critical Radiation Poisoning

800-999 Deadly Radiation Poisoning

1000+ Fatal Radiation Poisoning

Obviously, this doesn't mean anything taken out of context and the real world isn't so forgiving compared to a video game (seriously Bethesda, SPECIAL points?), so I tried devising a more realistic system (please feel free to use it if you want).

Here's my take on it:

0-50 REM - No noticeable symptoms, no one would notice a thing, except for their PIP-BOY's

50-100 REM - Mild radiation poisoning. Headaches and increased risk of infection.

100-200 REM - Light radiation poisoning. Same with symptoms above. Nausea and vomiting may occur at the beginning while fatigue and illness may set in. Temporary male sterility. (Todd was right.). If Megan was pregnant, a miscarriage would occur.

200-300 REM - Moderate radiation poisoning. Same with symptoms above. Nausea and vomiting will occur. Introduction of latent phase, which would include hair loss, weakness, bad-flu like symptoms, an increased chance of infection and poor wound healing. Can take one to several months to treat without regular doses of Radaway. (Andy would have been placed here.)

300-400 REM - Severe radiation poisoning. Same with symptoms above. Adding uncontrollable bleeding in mouth, under skin, and in kidneys.

400-600 REM - Critical radiation poisoning. Same with symptoms above, except with greater intensity. Dizziness and disorientation may occur. Can take several months to a year to treat without some very powerful medicine. Death possible from infection or internal bleeding. Sterility common. Ghoul like appearance may start to occur including peeling and ulcers on skin, voice changes, and lapses in mental function.

600-1000 REM - Fatal Radiation Poisoning. Same with symptoms above. At higher levels bone marrow transplant would be required, intestinal systems would be severely damaged. Really, I don't see anyone getting bone marrow transplants or organ system surgeries in the wasteland, so I'd say near certain death at 800 or above REMs. Recovery or treatment could take years, decades, or could never be complete.

1000+ REM - Feral Ghoulification? Trogification? Either way, it doesn't look good. Brain function breaks down. If anyone doesn't turn into a ghoul or trog at this stage, they'd be dead in a short period of time.

2000+ REM - Super mutant stage?

Morbid Disclaimer: _**This scale is for entertainment purposes only! In no way should this scale I came up via a dangerous mix of my imagination and real world research from wikipedia and The Mayo Clinic be used for diagnosing real world cases of radiation poisoning, **__**God forbid!**__** This type of advanced knowledge is best left to the experts who know precisely how to use it! I'm just an author. I take absolutely no responsibility in your lapse of judgment. You have been warned!**_

Of course, unlike the real world, Fallout science is better than ours for the recovery from and staving off radiological catastrophes. So that's it from me, are there any questions?


	9. Chapter Nine: Client 9

A/N: I want to extend a thanks to Argente for reviewing! To reply to your concerns, I'm not trying to be sexist but it's inevitable that gender bias in favor of men would occur in the wasteland, as I learned though sociology. To put it simply, if you needed someone to lift heavy objects, work harder, and most importantly carry on the family name and genes, most societies would prefer men.

This story also contains one of zGreece's characters in collaboration with myself. I have still got to work out some more details but they should be included in the next chapter.

Again standard disclaimer: **_All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course my (and in this case zGreece's) character(s). I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review. _**

**_

* * *

_**"_I may be __drunk__, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly." – Winston Churchill_

**Chapter 9: Client 9**

I thought about my decision carefully. Regardless of what I chose, something was going to get blown up, if that made it any easier. What to choose? Hearing the screams of a thousand people being swallowed up by the Earth? Nah, I wasn't that bad of a son of a bitch that everyone would love to hate. I tried to concentrate on the little square that was flickering on the bottom of the screen but that didn't help. It was such a complicated decision. I resorted to mindlessly pressing the up arrow and down arrow keys on the aging terminal.

"Don't you dare activate that, thing!" Megan muttered behind my back. A collapsed station and tunnel wasn't of much use to us anyway if we were stupid enough to ever come back. I realized that at least.

"I know, but I have a better reason than you trying to influence my decision," I scoffed, making my decision final. I selected the option for the self-destruct sequence. It was probably the quickest and the most painless way to do it.

I heard one beep validating my decision, then a few more beeps. That was weird; I thought there was only a single beep to confirm anything from these screwed up computers? I thought it would stop but it didn't.

"Where is that noise coming from?" I looked around all over the place and then I looked down. A flashing red light poked out underneath the ground, right between my feet. That couldn't be good. I didn't want to lose my feet or other sensitive body parts. I bounded out from my seat and flew down the escalator, yanking Megan along the way.

"Todd!" she barked as soon as we got to the bottom. "What the fuck was that for?"

I looked at her cross, emerald eyes dubiously as I heard two short beeps followed by one long one. I tilted my head up a bit, anticipating the boom that would shortly happen right about… now. I could hear the table, computer, and the chair that I just sat on fly all over the place, all of them hitting the floor with a deafening clang that rang out throughout the station. I was glad I was not on that chair; I would've eaten some serious concrete, or worse.

I raised an eyebrow, "I guess that what it meant by 'Operation cannot be recalled.'" I sighed. "Isn't this exciting?" I said sarcastically.

"Todd, you have a terrible sense of humor," Megan shook her head.

"I was trying to bring some joy to this craphole," I groaned. I raised an eyebrow, anticipating her usual reaction to some, if not most of my comments. I didn't want to hear it this time. "But you're right," I shrugged. "Let's get outta here."

I gave out a shallow sigh and walked down the dark metro tunnel that lay in front of me, with Megan following close behind. My rifle was held snugly in my arms; like a baby except this one could shoot. If I had a knife on me, I'd easily duct tape it on or attach it somehow. It was begging for a good, sharp, pointy thing to impale ghouls with. However, the butt of the weapon would suit a ghoul's head just fine, often smashing or snapping it off with brutal efficiency. I used it on the few ghouls that dared to cross our path or charge at us, more often the latter. I think I began to like killing ghouls, mainly because they looked ugly and acted stupid, waiting to be despised and disposed of like so many worthless creatures. If they were past humans before all this shit was bombed to hell, I wouldn't have cared and have them shot anyway.

As we walked further down the tunnel with our PIP-BOYs lighting the way through the jumbled mess of trains and rubble, I wondered what it would be like to actually ride one of those. It couldn't be that bad, unless it piled up into a wreck only a super mutant mother could love. Other than our dosimeters went off at certain points, the rest of trip was relatively uneventful. No yucky mutations, no stupid psychos, and especially no trying to fight super mutants in space of a fucking closet. I knew our semi-automatic rifles were nearly useless without VATS in close quarters.

We arrived at our next station, Davis. It was run down like the last one we were in, no big surprise there. It had boards displaying the station maps, some crap that said "Tufts University", some artwork, and the jumbled piece of colored metal strung over the place like it was supposed to be artistic. Fucking hell! Who designs these!? If these were fucking modern art masterpieces expecting to be appreciated, then I must be a gurgling ghoul writing a freaking masterpiece!

I helped Megan onto the platform. It was probably used as shelter before, there were chairs, skeletons, and even some hopefully still good food waiting to be eaten. The only thing lacking was a fire. I found an old wooden crate, broke it, and arranged the wood into a little pile on the cold and dingy station floor. I don't think it would be a humongous bonfire that would last for hours, but it would do nonetheless. Then I realized that to start a fire, I needed something to light it with. How stupid was I?

"Megan, are you okay on ammo? I'm gonna try find something to start a fire," I said.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'll stay here," she nodded. "Holler if you need some backup."

"I was going to say the same thing," I replied. I walked up the stairs in the center of platform, not knowing what I would run into, or who. I searched the lockers throughout the station. Most of them were nearly picked clean sadly. I'd imagine the poor bastards who tried to live in this place just yanking these open in sheer disparity. But through a feverish effort of searching I found a few matches slitted away between the tiny gaps in the metal. Seeing that there was no efficient way of fishing those suckers out, I tried desperately with my fingernails.

"Oh for God's sake!" I grumbled. My fingernails had a varying degree of luck when it came to these things. Sometimes when I'd though I'd get it out, it would lodge itself into a more difficult position.

"Finally!" I said with hushed excitement when I got one out, then two, then three. That should be enough to start a half-decent fire. I tucked the precious cargo into my pocket before racing back, eager to get a fire started and cook a remotely decent meal.

"I have found a fire-starter," I announced with hushed excitement.

I struck one and dropped it onto the pile, no luck. I didn't expect to start anything with these old, toothless things. I tried another one, nothing. I was down to the last one. The third time should be the charm. I hoped for the best, struck it, and it fell, igniting the wood pile.

At last, fire. Pure, comforting, fire.

I sighed, wondering what to eat or what to do before the fire ran out. Each of us eating a pack of "Cram! (_Because we can't say it tastes like *?!#)_" would be our best option, so we just stuck to that, roasting it over the fire with whatever pointy thing I could get my hands on, my rifle if it need be.

I tried to figure out how many nights we spent in the wasteland. "I think we're a week into the wasteland," I concluded. "Can you believe it, a week?"

"That's not a long time, Todd," Megan reminded me.

"We nearly got killed by a bunch of ghouls on the first day," I reminisced, chuckling a bit at the thought of that memory. God, we were so naive when we first came out, I think we aged pretty fast. I found a skeleton near where Megan was sitting and propped it up. "This could've been us," I said grizzly.

"How are you today old chap?" I sneered at it as it was getting harder to maintain its balance. "Was death fun to meet?"

Megan took a sip of some of her water. "Todd," she shook her head. "Your sense of humor is seriously terrible."

"So is yours," I tried to retort but I was cut off by another scream that echoed down the tunnel we just came through. I swear, don't we smell awfully fucking great to a ghoul? Our still warm human flesh must be so appealing to them! I pulled out my N99 pistol and loaded another magazine. I wish I had a grenade at times like these. Anything to make those ugly bastards shut the hell up and die.

I gripped my pistol tightly, anticipating their shrunken heads to come out of the darkness. They closed the gap between me with surprising efficiency. My shots seemed to miss more, probably because I was tired, with VATS having taken a pretty big chunk of my energy already. Despite all this, I entered into VATS again though because I knew I'd rather be dead tired than dead, dead. The ever familiar green boxes danced in front of me, a couple of bleeps confirming my selections. I was feeling generous about dishing out a few 10mm rounds so I made sure to give each ghoul its share of those.

The rounds predicatively hit their target, the ghouls dropped, and I ejected my magazine and let it fall to the floor with a clang. I breathed a collective sigh of relief; I was ready to hit the floor and go to sleep somewhere.

"Now that's over with," I yawned. I was anxious for more sleep. I don't know why VATS makes me more tired on a regular basis, it must be from the stupid calculations going through my head at lightspeed or something.

I was completely wrong when I heard another gurgle from the mutated freaks I just shot. I saw their arms move, trying to support their bodies up one last time. It was like they were rising from the dead! I just shot them! I heard a few shots later, hearing Megan's empty magazine clang to the ground shortly afterward.

Holy crap, that was close! I sheepishly grinned, "Uh… what was that expression again? 'Don't trap your ducks before they're fat enough?'" I scratched my head.

"Wrong again, Todd. Honestly," Megan shook her head while reloading another magazine. "It's 'Don't count your chickens before they are hatched.' You have a ways to go."

"A week in the wasteland counts something for me, right?" I shrugged, going back near the fire to spread out and enjoy the warmth. "I did most of the expertly crafted killing."

"I'll give you that," she sighed in defeat. "You're still a smart-ass, though-"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather be a smart-ass than delusional."

"Hey," Megan nudged me. "My instincts were right-"

"Only once," I scoffed. "And that was by sheer luck."

"Oi, I saved your ass back in the Vault remember-" Megan was quick to remind me.

"I meant in the wasteland," I said smugly. "Come on," I straightened up. "Let's at least celebrate this… small victory," I called it, not knowing what to describe it as.

"With what?" Megan asked curiously.

"The 'good' water of course!" I shrugged.

"You're kidding right?" Megan fussed. "Pure water isn't handed out like candy-"

"So what? Bring it out!" I interrupted her. "If we have to drink more cancer-inducing shit and we grow extra fingers and toes because of this, I'm fine with that." Cancer-inducing shit and grow extra toes, huh? At least that seemed curable.

Megan grumbled as she took out her bottle containing pure water, I did the same. I was ready for it, ready for the tangible reward of something representing a small, but important milestone in my opinion.

Megan looked at me with a hint of dubiousness. "You know Todd, if we don't get more pure water in a month, this will be all your fault."

I chuckled. "And if I lose my sanity because of putting up with you for a month, it's all your fault, too. Cheers."

I took a few small gulps of the precious water, thankfully washing away any thoughts of the crap I had earlier, nearly getting hacked to death by ghouls, and just concentrating my thoughts on enjoying the simple pleasures, not focusing on what the consequences would be for drinking purified water so, so shamelessly. I wasn't too concerned with the future at the moment; I had no regrets.

After that little toast, I extinguished the now weakened fire with the generous amounts of dirt and dust in the area. I yawned for a while; I really needed to get some sleep, especially with that insomnia just waiting to kick in the middle of the night. Not thinking the platform we were on was a safe idea, I worked my way up the crumbling steps of the metro station to an upper level. I was not in the mood to be killed by ghouls or anything else in my sleep.

_This seems to be a good place_, I thought as I found a spot under an advertisement for Howard Johnson's. I'd wonder how it would be to actually sleep on those… comfortable pre-war beds… pre-war people had the shit...

* * *

_I fought the glare of the sunlight that came through my eyes. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. It was a weird sensation; it felt like I wasn't using my arms or anything to sit me back up. Succumbing to the weakness, I sighed hopelessly. I knew there were going to be days like this where I'd be too weak to sit up. I turned my head to the side, what I found was…_

_Todd, I'm sorry it had to come to this…_

_Look I have to move on, I'm afraid you'll be the death of me. I should have seen those signs all around me, but I was comfortable inside these wounds. These wounds caused by your crazy decisions. _

_I guess I owe you an explanation… I'm so strapped for cash that… that I'm desperate. I happened to run across Ian and your dad while you were out BINGE DRINKING of all things! You didn't utter a word when both of your arms were cut off, good boy! Either your dad was a great surgeon or you're a prick! _

_Love :3,_

_Megan_

_I read that note again in utter shock and disbelief. That fucking bitch! How dare she! I tried to move my stump-like arms to no avail, just flailing it around all over the place. What... oh lovely, there's a PS…_

_PS: You're lying on a trigger which if you happen to get off it, will send a charge to an atomic demolition round, which Ian was so kind to set up. Mind you it is a long way down. Hope you die of starvation!_

_I rolled my body over to look down, she was fucking right. It was a hell of a long way down!_

"_Che, you're useless," I heard myself materialize in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe it, myself talking to me! "Fucking PATHETIC!" It shouted and then it disappeared._

"_What the hell was that?" I wondered. I noticed it materialize behind me, shortly after. I heard the distinct double clicking of someone loading a shotgun behind my back. This was not good._

_I scurried, trying to look for a way to escape this god-awful situation. _

"_Help! Anyone, please help!" I shouted. _

"_Todd" I felt someone shake my shoulder. "Todd!"_

I woke up suddenly in the darkness of the station and Megan's green light emanating from her PIP-BOY. "Megan, get that damn light outta my face," I waved blindly. "What the hell?" I stammered.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" Megan looked at me worriedly. "You were seriously spazzing out, were you having a nightmare?"

"Seriously?" I looked at her skeptically. I wasn't known for moving around in my sleep until now.

"Yeah, you were. Though, I don't recall myself being a light sleeper myself until now," she admitted, yawning and brushing her hair to the side.

I sighed, rubbing my fingers up my forehead and hair, "Yeah, I was. You wouldn't… um… cut my arms off and place a nuclear land mine under me, right?" I asked hesitantly.

Megan chuckled. "Your dreams are incredibly vivid. I wouldn't-"

The station floor rattled and shook a bit from underneath our bodies. Oh lovely, just in time, just about ruining any chances for us trying to go back to sleep. I yawned and got my rifle out, making sure to load a full magazine just in case. I walked up the stairs leading out; stopping before I reached the top, making sure my head wouldn't be blown off if I went up too fast. I slowly opened and closed the door behind me with Megan behind me. The both of us raised our rifles

I heard a commotion, but I couldn't see it where I peeked out into the dark and starless night. I stepped out into the destitute landscape, past rusted parked cars, destroyed brick buildings, hell; even the theater marquee advertised some kind of stupid tribute to the Jonas Brothers, Michael Jackson, or some sort of long forgotten musician.

"Crap!" I exclaimed as I heard a gunshot and a bullet whiz past by. "Who's there?!"

I inched forward cautiously, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I froze.

"Oh?" I heard a feminine voice whisper in my ear. It was definitely not Megan. "You're much cuter than the other junk that passes through here. I wanna see your hands!"

I rose up my arms over my head but I didn't respond. I wasn't cute to begin with for one. I tried to slip my hand down without her noticing.

"A .45 ain't gonna brighten your day anytime soon, honey," she coyly breathed down my neck. "Same goes for you girlie pie," she turned her head toward Megan. "I just know you're gonna lob your honey's head off with it."

"Come on out boys," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Let's turn these people into clients."

I knew this couldn't be good…

* * *

I don't remember too much beyond that, I'm pretty sure the both of us were drugged and were forced to move a quite a ways on foot from where we were originally kidnapped. I groggily forced myself up as soon as I could feel the drugs wearing off a bit. Hastily trying to regain my vision and balance, I stumbled around the drag, cold, and dark room before trying to force myself up what I perceived as stairs. I didn't know if Megan had woken up or what but I needed to find a way out before we became permanent bitches of this lady.

I coughed as I reached the top, pushing my way out of the door in front of me, which was surprisingly unlocked. I stumbled around some more, before encountering a pair of double doors guarded by someone. This had to be the way out; I'm amazed I didn't get shot yet.

"Let me out," I begged in an abjectly worthless manner. "I'll give you my rifle. I got stashers."

"One, you're unarmed," he tipped his cowboy hat up a bit, sneering at me. "And two, I'm just a merc. I don't do outside special favors."

"Seriously-" I tried to bargain.

I was kicked to the ground. "Seriously. I also don't take too kindly to prisoners groveling at me for favors," he said, pointing his shotgun at me.

"Now, now merc'y boyo," I heard that familiar woman over the intercom. "I know you're itching for action, but let's not damage the fresh catch too badly… mm'kay?"

"Yes, ma'am," He put away his shotgun. "I'm sorry."

"Apology noted. I'll send a couple people to drag these two up."

That was close… that was WAY too close…

All I remember was getting dragged up a couple stairs after that. I'm guessing the crap they injected into my body messed with my memories as well, damn. I was sat down in a chair that felt like it was going to break from under me. I could hear Megan being forced to stumble in. Damn, the drugs affected her more than me.

"Ma'am, we brought these two up like you said," I heard one of them say.

"Good job," she replied. "Now get a move on."

I heard a door close behind me. "What the hell do you want from us? If you're just gonna kill us, kill us now, Goddammit!" I yelled.

I heard another gunshot and another bullet going past me, most likely her .45; I've never seen her use anything else.

"The .45 is a wonderful cartridge," she coyly purred. "Less than half an inch in diameter, it strikes fear into the hearts of countless men, like you. As for what I want to do with you, killing isn't one of them. Consider this a job interview. Name's Jesse Firns by the way."

"A job interview? I was drugged here for a job interview?!" I couldn't believe it. That is just one crazy bitch.

"Exactly, honey," Jesse replied. "If I'm right the drugs should be wearing off any time now."

The blurriness out of my eyes slowly weakened as the drugs wore off. In front of me was a petite woman with long, flowing auburn hair contrasting with her aquamarine eyes. She looked and acted quite nice, but underneath all that, I knew that she was batshit crazy just like the rest of us. The wasteland sure as hell didn't discriminate. She got up on the desk and crossed her legs, tugging at her trench coat a bit.

"What the hell was put into my system?" I demanded.

"Settle down hon', too many questions yeah?" she yawned a bit. "That stuff's a secret but Dr. Wesley told me it's perfectly safe, says it's from the Institute."

I didn't trust her but I really didn't want a .45 caliber bullet drilled into me every time I said something that could possibly challenge her ego.

"So where was I?" Jesse said, getting off her desk and walking toward me. "Your job, should you chose to accept it, would be to help us find this," she said, pulling out a small advertisement that read Tufts University. It didn't look familiar… No wait, that name was in the station we were at right? Even then, I didn't know where it was to begin with. "I don't know about you but finding this place would be very important to us, and you'll be paid of course."

"So that's why you resort to drugging and kidnapping, huh? Just shooting randomly in the dark?"

"Well, it's the best we can do at the moment really," she shrugged. "Tried eight times before but we're getting close, I know it."

That excuse was terribly weak, but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. "But why the two of us?" I asked skeptically. "Why not someone else? Or even your squad for that matter?"

"Because boyo," she whispered, "willing and working labor is _expensive_. That merc you ran into is the cheapest I could afford and my squad, the Tuff Gong Squad, ain't the best with a sense of direction, if ya' know what I mean."

"And what if I don't?"

"We can always negotiate," she explained. She seemed confident about it and I would if I had the time but I didn't buy it. If I had a professional relationship with her, we could've negotiated something but all bets were off considering the two of us were ambushed. Besides, that place was back at where we were ambushed, I needed to move forward along the Metro line, not backward. It was just out of the question, I couldn't accept it. Especially not what Megan and I were put through.

"Forget the negotiations," I firmly said. "Deal's off. I-"

"Pardon the interruption, ma'am," one of the squad members burst through the door. "But we got muties!"

"Ugh. I'll be over," Jesse waved off and walked past by me. "You're free to go if you want, but I'd doubt you'd want to walk straight into super mutants. The love to surround things, boyo."

I heard the door close behind me. Megan was unfortunately still out from the effects of the very same drug they injected in me. I wasn't so sure if it was safe or not. I wasn't eager to suddenly grab a gun and start defending this place like these were my best friends, hell no. As I heard the first gunshots fly, I looked at the terminal that lay there on her desk and booted it up.

_Welcome back ma'am! What may I do for you today?_

I read one of the logs.

_Client #8: Larry_

_Mission Failure. Tim tried with his big guns. We were lucky; we nearly stumbled onto a screaming eagle den…_

"Uunnhh…" I heard Megan groan, she's still alive, thank god.

"You alright, Megan?" I rushed over and helped her up as best I could.

"Todd, where are we?" Megan asked, still a bit dazed.

"I don't know," I answered. Then it hit me, I didn't know where the hell we were now. Thankfully, our PIP-BOYs were still attached; I can't believe how much of an idiot I was for not checking. I brought up the map. I couldn't tell where exactly where we were but when I scrolled out I could see a little marker that read, "The Institute."

Now to figure out how to get the hell out of here and get to the Institute; that would be our next challenge…

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **Subtle References I'd like to point out (of course there are more)

- I had a nightmare similar to what Todd went through. The second line of Megan's letter of Todd's dream is a reference to "Death of Me" by RED with the first two lines squeezed in. I'm just replaying the music video on youtube right now.

- Client-9 is the code name referring to former Governor Spitzer in the now infamous scandal that led to his resignation.

- The idea of an eviler self appearing insides is a common cliche but I borrowed it from Bleach.


	10. Chapter Ten: Lord of the Charles

**A/N: **

I want to give a big thanks to Kimmae for reviewing and naurokid239 for that, faving and alerting this story!

Also thanks to zGreece who gives me these characters which are a good and entertaining challenge for me to try to work in.

Disclaimer time:_ All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other fan characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review. _

_

* * *

_"_People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent." –Bob Dylan_

**Chapter 10: Lord of the Charles**

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Megan grumbled through her grogginess. Thankfully, she couldn't slap me beside my head if she wanted to.

"I was drugged too," I was quick to remind her. "And all our weapons were taken from us."

"How- "

"Because I checked myself," I sighed, knowing our situation was bad, but it could've been a hell of a lot worse. At least she didn't torture us or use us as some kind of twisted experiment on those drugs. "And if I'm right," which I really didn't want to find out right now. It could be too horrible to bear. "Our stashers are probably gone as well."

"That f- " I instinctively covered my hand over her mouth, anticipating what the next few words out of her mouth would be. But instead of tapping my hand, she nearly yanked it to the floor.

"Your hand tastes terrible," she grumbled, spitting to the side shortly afterward. "I swear, it could get me killed."

"Unfortunately, your mouth sometimes nearly gets us both killed," I shrugged. "It had to be done. Plus, I still have an odd feeling that she's still inside."

"So what are we doing here?" Megan asked, leaning against a half-crumbled wall. "Just waiting for the fighting to die down?"

"Yeah," I hesitantly responded, not sure of what we were going to do. "Well, what else do you want to suggest?"

"Make our own weapons? I'm sure-"

"You're joking right?" I looked at her amusedly. God, I love it how she naively tries to avoid the inevitable, she just cracked me up. We were going to have to pick weapons off from their previous owners, whether she liked it or not. I hoped that the poor bastard's weapon we would rob from their dead bodies would be good enough for me. "We just don't have the time and we certainly don't have the resources."

"So we're just wasting time here?" Megan looked at me skeptically. "Is that your great idea?"

"Yeah, so what?" I said smugly. It was exactly my plan. "Go on, I'm already entertained by your naïve plans about making our own weapons." I patted her head, almost close from outright laughter from the things that were coming out. "Those crazy thoughts still remind me that I'm still stuck out here in this lovely and fucking _god-forsaken_ place."

Megan frowned and responded simply by kicking me in the shin. "Ow, ow, ow!" I grumbled from the sharp, sudden pain.

"Some things never change, Todd," Megan huffed. "Your smart-assed-ness for one…"

* * *

It was a while before we heard a lull in the gunfire. The super mutants and their obnoxious yelling outside didn't lose their effect, even though we were cooped up inside a building. I knew I was beginning to despise that call but felt discouraged that I couldn't even kill one of them. Not to mention I nearly died from one of them. I wasn't looking forward to meeting them any day. I haven't seen one of their little pets; I think they were called centaurs, I've heard they were supposed to be easier to kill. Weren't they supposed be more toward the center?

"I think the fighting died down," I said. "Let's get the hell outta this place."

"Yeah," Megan responded. "But I want a new gun though."

I was surprised. "But you had an M1, the most famous American rifle ever!"

"So?" she asked me like she didn't have a clue on what she was firing, at least she could reload it okay. It was really straightforward, even a ghoul condemned to hell could do it. It was even kind enough to automatically eject the clip when it was empty.

"'So?'" I couldn't believe her saying that. How could anyone not revere the M1 Garand as the quintessential greatest all-American rifle of its era? "You have a lot to learn about rifles, Megan."

As I walked down the stairs and out the front door, I orientated my PIP-BOY southeast, toward the mighty ruins of a once great American city. At least we were heading in the right direction but first I had to get through some of the primitive defenses of this place. I couldn't believe that they were in the way but at least when the shit started flying, we had something to shiver up against and cower for our lives. It was a hardly sufficient defense against sustained fire but I was pretty accommodating to primitive defenses like in the Smiling Buddha.

I took a shallow breath in; I nearly gagged from the overpowering stench. Come to think of it, I have never smelled a recently dead super mutant, or even a dead person before. I guess we moved quick enough after killing people not to smell that horrible stench of death. No matter how much we tried, I knew we couldn't get away from it, we'd have to get used to it eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Where I needed to be seemed so far away and that something bad would happen on top of that. Like getting kidnapped, having our guns and money taken away, getting drugged, and so forth among other things. I was off to a great start wasn't I?

A cry of "Oi! You!" broke me out of my thoughts once again. I looked around, was anyone talking to me or was I hearing things?

"Yeah, you!" he squeaked.

I looked down to find a really short guy in front of me staring at me with his hazel eyes. I had never seen a short person here, maybe it was just my imagination. It should be just my imagination.

He sighed, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "I know that almost all the people that wander through this place haven't seen a dude like me before. Go on, take your time," he said annoyingly, tapping his sage green boots.

I kneeled down, looking at him awkwardly. His tiger-striped camouflage he was wearing and the boonie cap on top of his messy brown hair were so mismatched it looked like he just picked it up somewhere. I don't know about his shooting but he looked like a mess. If the wasteland had a place where people could go to dress up in all different colors, he would come from that place.

"I may not look it," he grinned proudly, "but I, Tim Eriksson, am _the_ baddest motherfucker here operating the big guns, the whoppers. Hell, they are my hot wife, hot sister, and hot teenage daughter rolled up into one!"

"INCOMING!" I heard someone yell out. Instinctively, the both of us ducked down on the dusty trench floor, barely enough time to react to the artillery shells that exploded near us. That scared the crap out of us, but this guy just stood there, calmly smoking another cigarette.

"Isn't war _exciting_?" He relished in his thoughts. "People like you have to duck and cower in fear and I can just run through this trench no problem."

"But how- ?"

"My mum thought it was so badass to expose me to lots of that MMMM'GOOD radiation! I'm a fucking SUPERMAN!" Tim grinned. "I love telling that story, hahaha. Badabababa, I'm lovin' it!"

"But you're short..." I countered. Megan was at a loss for words.

"Yeah, so I don't have to stick my head so goddamn high," he smiled. Damn, this guy is even crazier than Jesse! He doesn't need drugs to get him all psych'd up. "Well enough of this chit-chat, my squad's dead and I need people, you two look scrappy enough."

"I don't have time for this," I said, another inconvenience? I wanted to get out of the trench and just run over. I think my instinct of thinking I'd be shot again quickly muffled that thought.

"Oi! Trust me on this, stupid-ass!" Tim squeaked. "There's gonna be another attack soon, I just don't know when."

"How the hell do you know all this?" Megan asked him suspiciously. I think she knew I wanted to beat the hell out of this dwarf because of all the crap we had to endure.

"Just Chuck Norris like instinct of course!" he started to ramble on before being interrupted by more gunshots and explosions in front of us. The ground shook again. I couldn't believe this guy was right! I just wanted to stop and facepalm my face in frustration. "Raiders dead ahead!" he shouted with excitement. "Hey missy! Give me a box of FMJ's and I'll give those bastards a present!"

Megan reluctantly fed Tim's hungry machine gun, I couldn't blame her here. I was suicidal if I dared to climb over the trench into sheer oblivion. As much as I didn't like it I had to go along. It was bitterly hot, dusty, and noisy with Tim's machine gun in the background. I looked for something useful I could shoot a goddamn raider with without it blowing up in my face.

I found something black in the shape of a rifle on one of the dead bodies. Was it a rifle? It sure as hell didn't fit my description of a wood-and-steel rifle I had always imagined. It felt very light and plasticky. A rifle should not ever feel plasticky as the one I held in my arms. I looked at it suspiciously and shot it once in the air. Despite its looks it at least could fire some rounds. The problem was that I needed it now; I could probably ditch it later though.

I really wasn't sure if this piece of plastic was going to save my ass but I took it anyway. I went back to my original position, near where Megan and Tim shooting at the raiders ahead. Their red tracers went off into the horizon, hitting a few, but damn, they were sure as hell persistent. I leaned it up against the edge and got a bead on raider with a crazy-ass Mohawk. I took a shallow breath and squinted before squeezing off a three round burst, I don't know if I hit him or not.

I focused on another one. I held my breath and pulled the trigger. The first two shots traveled downrange and then…

_*CLICK*_

Why am I always the one that gets the ones that go "click" and not go "boom!"? I tried fiddling with it but to no avail, it was a goner. I chucked it off to the side and hoped the next person that found this piece of junk would have it blow up in their face. Defeated by the torment of unexpected weapon malfunction, I turned my gaze over to Tim and Megan, who were still working that machine gun. Tim seemed to be enjoying himself but as for Megan, not so much. I was going to ask her why but my question was soon answered.

"_And now they whistle Dixie in the streets of gay Paris,_" I heard Tim singing. Singing?! Oh, lovely. I swear, he's got zero fear! Absolutely none!

"'_Cause I'm the motherfucker who started World War __III!! _OOOOYEAH!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!_"_ he belted out over the gunfire. He probably sang it over and over so many times he knows it perfectly. Annoyingly perfectly.

"_The Chinese threatened ac- "_he tried to continue before he was interrupted by an almighty CLICK.

"Oh, no" he wondered in disbelief, his smile and his cocky attitude instantly gone from his face. He looked around the gun, trying to figure out where the hell it went wrong.

He tiptoed on his little perch beside the gun and started messing with it. Popping off the cover to the guts of the machine gun, he tried his magic. He tiptoed up even higher, and then a blue streak of light nailed Tim on the side of his head. As quickly as it came, Tim was just gone. It took less than a nanosecond, but he was instantly turned to ash. The only thing we knew he ever existed was the ashes being scattered around by a breeze. It would be an impossible task, no one would dare to try to retrieve a single piece of his ashes. Another scream pierced through the air, which was enough to convince me I didn't want to be turned to ash as well.

"GET DOWN!!" I yelled. The ground shook violently shortly after I said that. That was way too close for me.

As pebbles and other crap drizzled down over my head, I looked all around me. Was Megan alright? Was I alright? Was there anyone I could use to cover me? Thankfully, Megan wasn't too roughed up and I was shaken, but still intact, a great relief to the both of us. However, we were the only ones left in that trench. With their guns getting more accurate, I knew if we stayed here, we would be dead on the next few rounds.

We sprinted up out of the trench back into the shelled out building where we were held captive. The doors were blown off, the place eerily empty and silent. We wandered around silently, confident that that place could at least shelter us adequately from the combat outside. Despite what Jesse might have claimed about her squad being only able to afford little, I thought they were fairly well equipped, despite having guns that jammed on them when they least wanted to. I managed to find a shotgun that looked like it had a few shots left in its life at least; I guess it wasn't all that bad. Megan just picked up a random pistol. I wasn't sure where they had their good weapons locked up, but I knew they'd be locked up real good, and I didn't want to go key hunting.

However, something else caught my eye, I saw what looked like to be half-cyborg, half-ghoul running across the battlefield, toward the bastards we were shooting at.

「僕は死にません！」It shouted, firing off its red colored lasers randomly at the same time. I'd doubt it hit anything.

「僕は死にません！」It shouted again, its hoarse, raspy voice ingraining itself into my mind.

「あなたが好きだから、僕は死にません！」It shouted again before it disappeared in an explosion. No wait, I think it actually caused it, was it a suicide bomb? I didn't believe it. There was no way it could've survived that.

What was more unbelievable than that was that the shooting stopped. I probably would have stopped too if I thought an enemy had an army of suicide bombers. If there was one, there were sure to be a hell of a lot more.

"What the hell was that?" Megan wondered in awe. I don't think she's ever seen anything like it before either.

We both hid behind a staircase I heard someone stomp down the stairs on top of us. It was frenetic at first but then suddenly slowed to a crawl.

"Hello, anyone here?" Jesse called out.

"Hello!" she called out louder and walking at the same time. "Com'out boys! I got TARFU to make 'dem scream! Hello!"

I was itching for payback and this was the perfect chance to show this bitch some of it. I looked at my shotgun and noticed that the chamber was open. I patted myself down and found that in their supposedly through cleaning of me, they nicked every shotgun shell, except one. Perfect. Everything was perfect.

I loaded the shell into the empty chamber, making sure not to push the slide forward. I wanted to make to use that clicking sound to my advantage.

"You like payback, right?" I whispered over, barely able to contain my eager smile.

"Extra sweet," Megan replied.

"Alright, let's give her one hell of a nasty shock," I whispered.

We slowly crept up on the unsuspecting bitch. I swear, I'm amazed she never even noticed us sneaking up behind her. Her trench coat remained stiff, undisturbed by our presence. The adrenaline pumped inside me, along with the giddy anticipation I would probably let out if I wasn't sneaking up on her. I stood up, brought the shotgun up to my shoulder, and yanked the slide forward. That distinctive click was enough to send shivers down anybody's spine; I know Jesse sure as hell wasn't immune from that. Jesse and I knew all too well, a shotgun easily trumps a .45. She turned around and raised her hands in shock. A shotgun in her face wasn't too pleasant for her, but I didn't give a damn. I wasn't in the mood for being pleasant.

"I'm a client that wants his stuff back, now" I growled. "Where's our money? Rifles? "

She grinned sheepishly, "Um… Tim had the key so-"

"Tim's vaporized," Megan raised her pistol. "Now that you can't recover our stuff, how about we clean out yours?"

"Tim… vaporized!?" she asked incredulously, almost begging for her life. "No, that can't be! I just saw him a few minutes ago! There has to be a body!"

"There is no body," I told her, my hands and arms still glued to that shotgun. "I ain't bullshitting you like you did to us."

"Hah, bullshitting!" Jesse smiled a bit. "Guards!"

"There are none," Megan said, I could sense the calm, devious tone in her voice. "They're all dead. They fought while you stayed inside. What a cowardly bitch you are! You make me sick!"

"Shut up! That's because my .45- "

"Then drop it," I said. "Unless you're prepared to drop your life."

"But-"

"NOW!" I yelled. I moved my finger over to the trigger, it's itching for something.

Jesse begrudgingly took it out and let it land with a dull clank on the shelled out floor. Megan tucked the pistol she was holding away and grabbed Jesse's .45. I knew Jesse couldn't do anything about it. If she retaliated, well, she'd be blown away instantly. I didn't want to toy with her like she did with us. I was dead serious. Morality would want me keep her alive and chivalry would dictate that I would keep her all warm and fuzzy. Screw it. I may want to decide to keep her alive, but after all that crap; I wasn't feeling warm and fuzzy.

"Where's all your stashers at?" I demanded. "You owe us a hell of a lot!"

"In my safe, but- " I swear, she needs to make these "buts" up for everything?

"Let's move it then!" I ordered. "The less time I have to hear you moaning, the less time I have to think about killing you!"

As we followed her up to her office once again, she opened her safe wordlessly and thankfully without incident. I'd thought I had to deal with a suicidal last ditch effort, but I guess she didn't have any to go by on. She was robbed of her squad or any of her self confidence. We proceeded to nearly clean out her safe of stashers. I noticed that there were sergeant stripes on both of her sleeves of her trenchcoat, she really didn't deserve to have that even if she went into battle today either. However, Megan beat me to it.

"You really don't deserve to have that lavish coat, lady," Megan commented.

"Now you're going to take my coat as well?!" Jesse cried.

And so we did, but I made sure we at least compensated her with a few stashers. All in all though, she deserved it. We never managed to recover all our things, including our rifles, pistols, or even our food but I thought the amount of stashers we managed to rip off from her was good enough. I thought Megan should have the trenchcoat though; it was her idea and frankly, she looked better in it than I did.

In any case though, the shooting stopped. I didn't care if our negative karma bullshit overweighed our positive karma crap. I didn't believe in karma, I thought it was such a dumbass concept some stupid guy made up to make us believe we made a difference.

I don't think we ever made a difference; it was just how the wasteland operated.

* * *

Traveling in the wasteland was brutal without any sort of water at all. I've heard somewhere that you could take your own sweat and drink it yourself in some sort of special "evaporation capturing" system. I don't know how I would handle that but Megan would definitely find that gross. I wanted to find the Red Line again since Jesse was so kind enough to throw another screw up in our plans.

As we made our way up another small hill I saw these haphazard walls made up of brick, rebar, and any debris that could be piled high and be made into crude walls. It looked about 2 or 3 stories high from where I was standing. I could imagine that what lay before us used to be like. It could have been a prestigious university, a miracle hospital where once proud medical discoveries were made, or it could've been a mental hospital for the damned and destitute. One of those three, it didn't matter in the wasteland.

"That... that's the Institute?" Megan wondered in awe. "The place you told me about?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "Let's go look around."

We headed south a bit before my PIP-BOY flashed with excitement,

"_Welcome to Harvard Square! Please contact the Cambridge Visitors' Information Service for more information! We hope you enjoy your stay in beautiful Boston!"_

That was odd, normally it said "You have discovered this location!" and crap like that, not some touristy thing where I needed my ass to be peddled around and my money ripped out from under me.

"Hey Todd, come look at this," Megan called me over. "It says this station is on the Red Line but-"

"But what?" I asked.

"It's sealed," Megan replied, looking at the debris pile of mud and brick inquisitively.

"Crap!" I cursed. Now we were really lost.

We walked along the street full of abandoned cars and buses, noticing the grizzly abandoned storefronts. I think I might've asked a girlfriend out just to walk down the street, if I had one. Damn, this place was probably packed during the great pre-war era days. I would've loved to live here, the lifeless trunks of trees seemingly striking an unusual chord. Were they elm, maple, oak, aspen, or birch? I couldn't tell, they said you could tell it by their leaves and the colors they turned during the fall. Unfortunately, I don't think a leaf has even spouted for centuries; way too hard to tell.

My PIPBOY flashed again,

_Harvard University. Home of..._

But then I heard a gunshot. "Woohoo! I think I got Jesse, damn bitch!" I heard someone exclaim in an irritatingly accented hillbilly tone.

I turned to see a guy with red hair in a very poor wastelander outfit dancing around, shooting off his revolver in the air. "I'ma gonna be rich! I got Jesse!"

I re-focused on Megan, "Are you hit?"

"Yeah," she grimaced, clutching her arm. "Are you?"

"No."

"Good," she tried smiling a bit.

"HEY!" I yelled out. "You shot the WRONG PERSON." I emphasized those last two words especially clearly.

"Shut up stupid-ass! Don't lie to me!" he retorted. God, this guy was stupid. "That's HER coat!"

"What is this Mickey Mouse shit?" I heard another voice. I saw him stop in shock, and then he ran over to help me.

His shaved, muddy brown hair, contrasted with his fair skin, light brown brahmin skin outfit, and grey boots. He looked at me with his teal blue eyes, "Are you hit?" he asked.

"No, but she is," I replied.

He looked at me suspiciously, noticing Jesse's coat that Megan was wearing. "Where the hell did she get that from?" He looked confused, "She ain't Jesse right?"

"I'll explain later," I tried to form my words calmly. "But I know she is not Jesse!"

He looked at me with even more suspicion. "And how do you know all this?"

"Because we ran into her and striped her of stashers and the coat!" I explained. "I'll explain everything later," I repeated myself. "But I need stimpacks!"

"You're right," he admitted. "Let's get her inside," he said, pointing to that big old brick building. "You grab the torso, I'll grab the legs."

I tried to make Megan as comfortable as I could as he grabbed her legs as we ran toward that building he pointed to just a few moments ago. As we made our way toward the gate, I took a glance off a strange inscription that was hastily carved into the stone supporting the rusted iron gates.

_What hath God wrought?_

It was eerily ominous inscription, but I didn't dwell on it too long. We ran past more dead trees before coming to the building. I couldn't tell what it was chiseled into its crumbling stones but something else was scribbled above the door we were about to rush through.

_Here one must leave behind all hesitation;  
here every cowardice must meet its death._

I couldn't help but wonder what all these weird inscriptions were for. Someone must really have a psychotic mind or were just bored for all eternity. Their minds were probably as dead as the trees that littered the area. They looked particularly inviting, especially for a person about to commit suicide and hang themselves on the branches.

I don't know why, but that guy made me carry Megan up a couple flights of stairs. I guess this place, like many others, was shelled, bombed, or otherwise screwed over by the violence. I had learned to expect that. I didn't think I could've made it up those stairs, but somehow, through determination, luck, or whatever crazy explanation, we eventually did.

We went along another set of corridors before he led us into a room on the third floor. It was sparse and not decorated very much, but I got the feeling from the faded paint that it was. There was a divider between me and what looked like was a man there? The panels were too opaque; I could only see a pacing shadow with a few puffs of cigarette smoke coming out from his mouth.

"Hey Walt," the guy in front of me asked. "You don't mind-"

"No, I don't mind Ari," he quietly and calmly responded over the radio. "There should be a couple more in that first-aid kit to the right of that guy's head."

How did he know? After we both set Megan down to rest against the wall, I went to work on the getting stimpacks into her arm. Thankfully, it was just one bullet hole, I didn't have to go fishing for bullets in her arm, and it just missed the bone. Any closer and it would have been a mess to deal with. In any case, the person who invented those things was a fucking miracle worker; these things heal gunshot wounds in a matter of hours, not days or weeks.

Megan was nothing short of amazing. I gotta admit, the wasteland has probably changed her more than me. Even though it's a pistol round shot by some stupid hillbilly, at least she's still conscious. Hell, I got knocked out when I got shot in the shoulder by a super mutant.

"Do you need help?" Ari asked.

"Nah, I think I got it," I tried to reassure him, and Megan.

"Yes, I think he's got her medical condition stabilized, Ari," Walt said. "Please, return to your post."

Ari silently left the room.

"Ah, it seems I get the rare visitors," Walt mused. "I'm guessing you two are from one of the things called… Vaults is it?"

"How did you know?"

His shadowy figure rested his feet onto something; I think it was a desk. "Lucky guess, really. But if you prefer a more technical answer, this used to be Widener Library, the crown jewel of the Harvard University Library System. Now, it's a place where I can wither my life away in solitude."

I looked out one of the blown out windows. "Is that the Potomac?" I asked.

"Nope, it's the Charles," Walt smoked another cigarette. "In its pre-war course it used to be about 80 miles or 129 kilometers in length from its source in Echo Lake, located near Hopkinton, Massachusetts. It was a cultural icon for the City of Boston and was featured in the 1966 song, "_Dirty Water"_ by The Standells."

I was nearly blown away by his access to such detailed pre-war knowledge. "You know way too much," I commented.

"You're right, I do sadly," Walt acknowledged. "And that's the way it is."

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"You see, I lack the right kind of knowledge," he explained. "About a mile and three-quarters south east of here, lies the Commonwealth Institute of Technology. It-"

He was cut off by an explosion. While we both needed time to adjust to the noise and vibrations like green soldiers on the battlefield, he remained calm and motionless. It was like he was used to that for years on end, like a seasoned veteran experiencing one battle after another. I thought we were at least used to the war-scarred wasteland, but this guy, surpassed all my notions of being experienced. Battle weary and tired, trying to savor of what little entertainment there was locked up in this former library.

"Pardon the interruption," he continued. "While not all of its facilities are operational, it does contain specialized knowledge in the art and science of war. They currently possess enough material to make up to Class III androids."

"So," I tried to figure this out. "If anyone was trying to shell us with artillery, it would be them…"

"Precisely. I only have access to what's left of man's other works, literature, history, art, and music. Even if I did have enough resources, it still wouldn't be enough. Do you mind if I share some of it?"

Megan perked up a bit at the thought of a bit of entertainment. "Yes, please," she coughed up weakly. I didn't want to listen to it, but for her sake, the least I could do was humor her.

"Certainly, Miss," he said. "It would be my pleasure."

_Therefore my master said: "If you would tear  
__a little twig from any of these plants,  
the thoughts you have will also be cut off."_

_Then I stretched out my hand a little way  
and from a great thornbush snapped off a branch,  
at which its trunk cried out: "Why do you tear me?"_

_And then, when it had grown more dark with blood,  
it asked again: "Why do you break me off?  
Are you without all sentiment of pity?_

_We once were men and now are arid stumps:  
your hand might well have shown us greater mercy  
had we been nothing more than souls of serpents."_

"I can't grasp the full meaning of it," Megan gestured. "But thank you anyway."

"If you don't mind," I changed the subject. "Could you tell us how to get to the next Red Line station?"

"You wouldn't want to go there, to Central Station," Walt puffed another cigarette. "There is currently a stalemate between the Sons of Liberty and the Institute."

Before I could speak, there was another explosion, probably another shell launched by the Institute to taunt us all. Damn it! I thought the Institute would a beacon of hope that science and technology could provide. I guess war corrupts all who experience it.

"But we need to get there!" I objected. I knew it was suicidal, but I objected anyway.

"I'd doubt the next station would be your final destination unless you truly wanted to be stuck in a bloody quagmire," he calmly deduced. "The Institute toy with all the other factions in the wasteland, especially the Railroad, which I rent space out to."

"But why do you do it?" I asked. He knew that the Railroad were a liability to him.

He paused for a moment, letting out another puff of cigarette smoke. "It's because the Railroad is the only real reliable source of information in and out of this wasteland."

"Like?" I asked skeptically. Who knew about the quality of the information coming in from other wastelands?

"Oh, like how an android killed his former master in the Capital Wasteland, the war between the Enclave and the Brotherhood in Madhatkrakastan," he mused. "Anything easy to digest, really."

He snuffed the cigarette on his desk. "And speaking of the Capital Wasteland, I've heard there's going to be a special guest coming up from that place…

_I've heard her name was Dr. Madison Li…_

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

A/N: References I'd like to point out, (But there are more! Happy hunting!)

- What Todd picked up would be known to us as the M16. Since I thought Todd would never know what an M16 was unless it was pointed out to him, I had to take a different route. Also, like the original M16's that were issued in Vietnam, the older ones in the Wasteland are prone to jamming (usually when they need it the most).

- What Tim is singing is part of the song "World War III" by Dos Gringos. Their music is kind of country-western, their lyrics throw political-correctness out the window and usually contain fighter pilot vocabulary but Tim (and I) wouldn't care. That and many other songs can be listened to (fully) on their site. Their songs are great and NSFW!

- 「僕は死にません！」 "Romaji: Boku wa shinimasen!" is a famous line of the JDrama "101st Marriage Proposal" (101回目のプロポーズ) which stars Takeda Tetsuya. In that scene, he jumps in front of a truck while proposing. Translating all three lines it means, "I won't die!", "I won't die!", "I love you so, I won't die!"

- The first two lines taken from Dante's Divine Comedy, are from Canto III. The much larger section is from Canto XIII, see if you can spot any connections between that and where I've set it in.

- I really don't want to have anything saying remotely like "OMG!! DR. LI DIDN'T LEAVE FOR THE COMMONWEALTH HAXX!" During the events of Broken Steel (which you should've downloaded, the ending video gets annoying amirite?) the Vault Dweller is informed that she leaves the Commonwealth. If you still don't believe me, ask her assistants and Scribe Bigsley.

* * *


	11. Chapter Eleven: WIFS

A/N: Phew! Hello, readers! I'm glad of getting this chapter out just in time, when I know I'll be playing Mothership Zeta; the 5th and final DLC for Fallout 3. Hats off to Bethesda for that. I'll try to get another chapter before college resumes again and updates will be infrequent, maybe sparse.

Well... there's no reviews but I'd like to extend a thanks to york for fav'ing and alerting.

**_Disclaimer: All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review. _**

**_I am also open to anything that you, the reader, want to see in this story, just ask. Just PM me or leave it in your review._**

* * *

"_Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" –Arthur C. Clarke_

**Chapter 11: WIFS**

I stopped for a moment to solemnly look out over the wide, putrid banks of the Charles. The dry, dusty wind wafted its awful smell to me, that unmistakable smell of hundreds of decomposing organisms taking their sweet time at the bottom of the river. I noticed the sun's ominous red tint on the wasteland, which didn't seem too reassuring 'cause… Well, it certainly wasn't there to make my day any better.

Megan was still trying to recover the best she could without me under Walt's watchful eye. He said he didn't mind but I was still hesitant. I guess my obvious desperation showed. I hated being desperate but it was inevitable; no food, no water, and not a whole lot of stimpacks and ammo. I knew we had to gather more supplies, but one person was shot and guess whose turn was it to find it? That's right, me. I'd think there would be more in the way of available food options, but they were either boarded up, collapsed in on themselves, their food was ridiculously rotten, or were occupied by ingrate wasteland squats that were better off roasting themselves to death. Unbelievable.

I had to cross that river, unfortunately. That river was so vile it ate away at just about anything it touched. I definitely didn't want to fall in there. If it could eat away so much at the rickety stone bridge I crossed on, my body parts would be toast the moment it hit the sloshing water. I did my best trying to tread lightly, knowing that I'd have to use this stupid bridge going back.

The dosimeter perked up on my PIP-BOY. Yeah, this river was radioactive as well, no surprise there. I'd imagine the bridge not high enough for me to cross radiation free. Radiation is such a bitch, it'd be much easier without this radiation this and radioactive that crap going all around. I'll probably have a headache the next morning; just one of many inconveniences.

What was that expression again, ah… screw it, I knew I'd be wasting my brainpower trying to figure out what wise old geezer said some wise-ass words long ago.

My stomach growled again. Oh jeez, I could go for something good, like a Nuka-cola, cram, or that stupid victory food if it came down to it. The low rumbling of shells exploding off in the distance didn't help, reminding me of more of my failures and my hunger. I continued on, before I saw something scurry across the barren wasteland plains.

I couldn't believe my eyes, at first. Was it crab? Hell yeah, I could go for delicious, mutated crab! I followed it to an open field where it stopped; gathering what scant wasteland grass there was with its large claw.

"草! 草! 草!" It chirped cheerfully.

Holy crap! Did it just talk? I mean… yeah, it could talk, but I needed it for food, not entertainment. I snuck up behind it, raised my foot up, expecting to kick this sucker down for an easy meal. Instead of my foot turning crab into crab meal though, it stomped on… metal? I looked at it again and in desperation, I went into VATS and shot it with my pistol, anything to kill it sooner.

Imagine my amazement when it moved around almost unscathed from that shot. My PIP-BOY flashed in excitement… what the hell now? This better be something important.

_SPECIES, Hexie detected… _

_Descendants of the Chinese mitten crab (__Eriocheir sinensis), which was introduced to N. America in the late 20__th__/early 21__st__ century,__ their shells are equivalent between Type IIA and Type II body armor, which can defeat most 9mm up to .357 Magnum rounds. While usually found industrious and solitary, they are known to group to thwart off attackers when they feel threatened… (citation: Overseer's Notes)_

Thanks a lot, I have no idea what that means but I could've learned that much sooner, stupid. It swung its giant claw aggressively, hitting me in the arm. After I backed off, it pounded its claw on the ground, attracting more of those creatures to me. More of them came over the hill, waving their claws and charging at me. Seeing that I didn't possibly have enough ammo to kill those stupid crabs, I ran to get as far away to these things as possible.

I soon ducked into a run-down Dunkin' Donuts store and hid behind the counter. The crabs scurried right on past me; thankfully, they're not too keen on sensing the heavy panting coming out of my mouth.

So this was a donut store? I looked up at the menu teetering above me. Why the hell were those stupid things called "bagels", "_cross-saints", _or "_bursh-cutta _sandwiches" even up there? It was a freaking place I'd imagine you had an honest hot, sweet, and fresh doughnut. Maybe a coffee to go along with it, but still! Who walks into a donut shop and asks for a sandwich? I know I don't. Pre-war people had some weird shit to go along with their donuts. Even still, I had my hopes up that this screwed up donut joint that catered to an equally screwed up population had a bit of still good meager dough. I combed through the abandoned racks, the cabinets with their hinges rusted off, anything to make up for that disaster of taking on the local river crab population.

I went into the collapsed back rooms, sweeping them out with my pistol. The only thing I found was a small jar of honey. I opened it and saw white crystals on the top of honey. It couldn't be that bad to eat. I took a small piece of it; it didn't taste too bad, it was good enough. I slipped the honey in my pocket and walked casually out of the Dunkin' Donuts shop. Mission complete, I imagined.

However, shortly after I walked out of that shop, I ran into those disgusting crabs again. They didn't charge at me immediately, instead they were staring intently at me. What could they be after? Was it the honey or was it me? I shot at one of them, with the bullet bouncing off their shell shortly afterward with a loud clinking sound. Oh yeah, I forgot they could resist whatever I shot at them.

I ran again, winding through the rotten and dried up husks that were once trees. Stupid crabs! I wanted to shoot at them so much but what I was armed with now were useless against them. I'd just be wasting ammo even if I did hit them.

Feeling my legs wanting to give up on me, I ran into a nearby concrete building and bolted the steel doors as best I could with a few pieces of junk lying around. Hearing the crabs trying to ram themselves in the door, I casually walked up the ruined steps. I figured crabs can't jump their way up steps even if they used their claws, no matter how bulletproof their claws or shells were.

I wasn't in the mood for clearing out the entire second floor of this place so I just sat down against the crumbling beige wall and took a breather. There was no way I was going to make it back across the Charles River without doing something extremely stupid again. I sighed, trying to recollect my thoughts for the day. How long was it? 8 days? I thought we would be merrily going the Red Line by this point, hoping to be found by a much friendlier and sociable Institute. I wondered what the Vault's like after our little festive escape but I couldn't go back, it was just stupid to go back. I couldn't bring myself to pound on the door and say "Hey! We were so fucking stupid. You were right, let us back in, oh wise and noble overseer!" It was nauseating just thinking about it.

But there was nothing to do except wait, alone. No one to call, no one to talk to… well, if someone managed to ever get in without those crabs beating them to death, I'd shoot them and maybe have a firefight in the hallway for shits and giggles. Most of my thinking was geared on survival. That was just the daily grind, survival. Fun never really crossed my mind, wait… maybe it did once but my sense of fun has probably dulled since I left the Vault.

It suddenly got dark; I'm assuming the last of the sun's rays disappeared. I turned on my PIP-BOY light, combing the area for a good place to sleep overnight. There was no way I was going back out, wandering with a light that screamed, "HEY!!! I'M HERE AND I DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT THE WASTELAND!!! PLEASE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY!" I was going to advertise my death to raiders doing that.

I looked around the darkened place some more, trying to find a spot that wouldn't result in my death by sleeping on it. Walking around this place gave me the impression that this used to be a TV studio before the war happened; the terminals that worked properly seemed to agree with me. Too bad this place wasn't a fucking motel; that would have made my day a hell of a lot easier. I stumbled into a room that looked like it was used for relaxation. Its tables were strewn randomly, who knows what happened to the chairs. There was nothing that looked comfortable in this building, I was defeated until…

_Simulation Pods_

Huh, simulation pods? Are they? I've heard from that pre-war crap that they could be used for just about anything. Relaxation, entertainment, pain, pleasure, lust… I've heard people sometimes spend their whole lives in their virtual reality without ever getting up. Pre-war people got addicted to this stuff; I've heard it was scary, being addicted to a virtual reality.

I was even more surprised when it suddenly opened, its mushy, paled burgundy chair beckoning me to sit in and spend the night in its journey. I surrendered to its call. I sat back and relaxed as my vision faded to black. I felt a sharp jolt on the back of my neck, but I didn't squirm. It was as if something felt right, as if my existence was transferred to another universe.

What if... ah, fuck it. I'll just let the computer decide.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, I stood in an illuminated black box. That was it, what it was like to cross into a virtual world of entertainment, where anything could happen, albeit within a controlled environment. A yellow message started scrolling on the screen.

_CAUTION! THE FCC AND ESRB RECOMMEND NO MORE THAN TWO (2) VIRTUAL HOURS (VH) IN SIMULATOR IN ONE SESSION. REMEMBER TO TAKE BREAKS OFTEN!_

Yeah, yeah, government bullshit concerned about my health and safety. Get me my entertainment!

The yellow words and lights faded and I was left in the darkness once again. I'm ready to be entertained. It's a miracle this survived for over 200 years, but I'm ready to be entertained!

A drum rolled…

さあ～こんばんはみんなさん-

_Japanese Language (ISO 639-3: JPN) detected, attempting to process dubbing…_

Ok, great! It's going to be in English! A language I can understand. I still had a bad feeling about this; it's from another country, anything could go wrong. If it wasn't from this country, it wasn't right.

"_It's UMA-UMA'S 'I don't know where the caramel shop is!' 2051 24-hour New Year's Special! Super shiny black demon flowrider HIT IN THE USA!"_

That animation of those words appearing in front of my face was just simply, epic. I wish I could've replayed it again but the replay controls on this thing seemed completely busted. Damn, pre-war people had the best shit on television! Mini rockets and fireworks, zipping and streaming in front of my face! This was great!

_Warning! Corrupt .savi file detected, attempting to fast-forward to next scene!_

Great! And the worst technology to stand the test of time!

As the scene re-materialized around me, I was placed in a prewar gymnasium. It was really wide and empty, save for bunk beds in the middle of the gym arranged in a square. I really hoped that was for show, I didn't want to spend the night here if possible. I took a step to walk when I noticed something different about my step and only then did finally I notice comfortable, clean, clothes. A simple red tracksuit, more specifically, a Puma one, but I'm not complaining. I may have not noticed how clean this place was compared to the wasteland but I did now.

I heard a door opening, its sound reverberating throughout the gym. I turned around, anticipating that they were going to shoot me, like most things that happened in the wasteland. Instead, three guys with matching outfits casually walked in, talking amongst themselves.

Why the hell didn't they notice me? Soft green letters faded into my field of vision, I must be fucking seeing things.

_The AI is programmed not to interact with you for a few moments_

But-

_Don't worry, this is normal. This simulation has rules you know._

Okay, that was odd. It was like it was reading my mind.

I shuddered in shock over the friendly announcement tone that blared throughout the place. I spun around, in fear of what would happen next.

A hole appeared in the floor across the gym, with a slightly burly man popping out of it, cross-dressing in shockingly blue, pale, pre-war dress and a purple bonnet. He was definitely mental, with some kind of stupid personality disorder.

"HEEEEEEELLOOOOO, kitties!" a high-pitched shrill echoed throughout the gym. Oh my god. This was going to be hell.

I walked over with the other three bastards, expecting them not knowing what to expect as well. "Come, everyone!" he waved.

"So, what do you think?" he smiled. The rest of us were speechless. "You think ordinary Americans like you can survive Japanese ingenuity, huh?"

What a cocky prick. "Especially you, Markie! Wipe that cocky grin off your face." Mark? Was that irritating cross-dressing hypocrite talking to me? It seemed like it.

The mainframe gave me another message…

_You are playing under the name Mark Torres-Vierra_

But my name isn't Mark.

_Just play along. Don't resist, the pain is only temporary…_

"Well, it's about to start soon," he tipped his purple bonnet forward. "Good luck to all of you in 3, 2, 1!"

A buzzer sounded and he disappeared into the black hole that suddenly appeared from under his feet. In his place spawned a skinny man covered head to toe in black. He didn't speak to us; the only thing written on his body was…

**Cattle prod**.

Shit, this couldn't be good. It may have taken a split second to realize it, but it seemed like forever. I knew there was only thing I could do. Run, and run as fast as I could. I turned around like the other three guys and just bolted, praying that my legs were fast enough. I could hear the yelps and the screams coming from the other players. I turned my head back, suddenly aware that he was just behind me!

I tried, but it was not enough as he poked the prod into my legs first, that short painful electrical shock pulsing through my body. I stumbled on the hardwood floor, a few more shocks given to my already curled up body. I yelped at the pain. I was glad he stopped, disappearing into a hole in the ground, glad that it was all over.

Another buzzer sounded and another hole opened up on the other side of the gym. Another one of those things! I stumbled trying to get up, almost head over heels. He was spraying something into one of them, though I couldn't tell what it was. He then sprinted over me and sprayed something into my face as well. I coughed on it, nearly made me throw up! What was this sick game!?

Another buzzer, another hole, and another black goon popped up from out of the ground. I didn't think there was going to be an end to this madness. I forced my legs to pick themselves up and start running, because I really didn't want to get my ass kicked, literally. That's what it said! My legs gave up on me as I tried to struggle with the goons that captured me.

"Oi! Let go!" I tried yanking my wrists from their grasps. They didn't listen as I felt a sharp kick to my ass, the enormous blunt pain ricocheting through my body. God, that was painful, almost close to getting shot. I crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain as I saw the last goon disappear into the floor in the corner of my heavily squinted eyes.

"Holy crap! Are you okay?" I heard one of them ask me.

"This is insane!" another one complained. "It's only been a few minutes right? We have to survive 24 hours!?"

"Shut up! We get money at the end!" I heard another one say. My god, those people are pathetic. If they weren't playing for money at the end, they wouldn't be here complaining their asses off. If they were dropped into the Wasteland, they wouldn't last a day.

A few minutes passed by but we weren't in the mood for introductions. I just kept to myself, still lying there on the floor, silently watching them move around nervously. If I was scared of those things I tried not to show it.

That friendly announcement tone startled us once again as we jumped up from wherever we were at and started looking around, ready to run. Another hole popped out of the ground, was it a demon? Something else? Something even more sinister than the goons that chase us around every so often?

"HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOO, kitties!" a high pitched squeal came out of the black hole before that stupid cross-dresser popped out in an equally festive "Hello Kitty" dress, holding four trays in his hand. I'm guessing that was for breakfast. "Come here! I can't sing, dance, or play good music but I can score breakfast!"

I walked with as much forced excitement I could put into my feet, I'm sure he couldn't make a good breakfast either.

"Ah, kitties! Before we start eating, we've got to say a prayer!"

I wanted to blurt out something along the lines of "You've GOT to be fucking KIDDING!" but I knew that arguing with this Section 8, Michael Jackson, cross-dresser was dumb. It would take longer to argue with him than actually enjoy my meal. I stood there with my arms folded,

"For this food we," he started. None of us responded. I certainly never believed in a stupid prayer when I was nearly shot to death but whatever; I could wait. If it meant a hot meal, I could wait.

"Oi! Kitties! I didn't get discharged so I could babysit you lot! Repeat after me!" He started again, "For this food…

I sighed, putting as much contempt for this crazy bitch to get shot in the middle of his face in my words. "For this food,"

"We are truly grateful."

"We are truly grateful," we grumbled.

"We wish to share it with all beings."

I couldn't believe he'd dare shove this crap down my throat! "We wish to share it with all beings."

"Thank you, Producer Goodman."

"Thank you, Producer Goodman."

"We are truly grateful."

"We are truly grateful."

"Ok! Well done kitties! Here's your breakfast!" He gleefully cheered, handing us our trays of breakfast. It smelled wonderful, looked great, and tasted better than anything that I had ever had so far. If I could take this out of the simulation, that would be awesome! I could stay forever in this place if there weren't black goons chasing me around every few moments.

My tasty meal was interrupted at the sound of another goon popping out the floor and another chase ensued. I ran, but thankfully not caught this time as I saw one of them take a huge slap to the face. I don't think it was a girl like Megan doing the slapping; it was man doing the slapping. I've already gotten slapped in the face once anyway.

His ass crumpled on the ground. "That guy… he slaps harder than my girlfriend," he sputtered out.

I laughed. Simply put, he was pathetic.

"How can you laugh? He got owned by a man-slap!" the other two said at almost the same time.

I didn't respond, I couldn't respond; this was too hilarious to believe. Throughout breakfast, I tried to stifle the laughter that wanted to escape the smirk on my face.

After an hour and a half or so into the challenge, I was getting used to running around in circles, trying to desperately avoid unusual and sometimes dangerous punishments that were enjoyable to watch being inflicted on another person. Less so once I got caught a few times but hey, it was inevitable. Some of these punishments were painful, but I could manage without being killed or seriously injured. It's not like I'm getting shot or facing super mutants in this simulation.

However, after around two hours, as more of the attacks came, the other contestants' faces started to fade, melt, disappear, I don't know what. It was strange to me, my face was still intact. Well, I didn't expect the simulation to be perfect after 200 years, but I carried on within the simulation. The pain seemed real but everything else outweighed it; the food, the shelter, and definitely watching other people run around.

Another buzzer, another goon; even though my legs are tired, I had to keep running. I didn't know what a submission lock was but I knew it couldn't be good for my legs. I tripped; there was no use getting back up as my legs were wrapped around the goon's leg and…

"Fuck!" I exclaimed from the pain. My leg was put into a bar and my knee forced into a position to cause me the most… Goddamnit! The pain seared up my body. How long was it going to last? I slapped the floor violently, begging for that psychopath to let up on my legs! I thought they were going to snap!

"STOP! GODDAMMIT, STOP!" I screamed in pain. After what seemed like an eternity, he let up on my legs and left me to struggle to sit myself up.

"It's because you keep saying awful things," one of the red tracksuit guys said to me. I couldn't tell which one, all the unique features that identified him were blurred out. His voice was monotone as well. I wordlessly flipped him off; I didn't care.

Three and a half hours in and these punishments seemed to be getting more, creative. The Japanese, whoever they were, certainly had the art of brutal entertainment down. The fanciful enjoyments of seeing another person suffer in controlled pain and then bringing it over to us to experience. It's genius from a producer's standpoint.

There was calm in the simulation with no more of those things popping out of the floor. I think I had my fill of entertainment already; I needed to get back to the wasteland. I couldn't stay in here forever; there was no way I wanted to. I had to get my supplies back over the irradiated Charles. There has to be some way this simulation could let me out early, like a release command or something. The green letters responded to my thoughts once again.

_I'm sorry, visitor. I am afraid I cannot do that._

What the-

_This simulation must go on for the full 24 hours to preserve your physiological and psychological integrity…_

Seriously?

_Yes, I'm-_

How the hell can I trust you? I'm supposed to be safe inside here!

_You are. However due to the corrupt file and irregularities within my reconstruction system, I cannot guarantee your safety upon reconstruction and reintegration into reality if you choose to end the simulation early._

I don't care if you can't guarantee my safety 100%, what's the probability if I escaped here without any problems?

_5% with +/- 3% margin of error._

My thoughts were racing and screaming. If the mainframe materialized in front of my eyes, I wanted to strangle it to death! Tear it up and make sure no one found its circuits! Why the hell did it allow me of all people!? It knew that its systems were damaged, but why me?

_I am sorry for the inconvenience._

Not good enough, this is my body and mind you're talking about.

I sat down on the virtual bed in the middle of the gymnasium. Was I ever going to make it out of this place? It's only been three and a half hours, at least by the virtual clock I was looking at. I realized then that I was trapped, with my body and my thoughts at stake throughout the 24 hours. Even then, would the computer stay true to its word? It's already deceived me once before.

But the nagging question was, how long would I be trapped in here compared to out there?

24 hours?

24 days?

24 months?

24 years?

I hoped it was 24 hours. If I was trapped in here any longer, then I was screwed. The wasteland easily changes within a short period of time. I knew that here more than any of the red dummies that stood in my way.

I hoped I wouldn't let anyone any one down when I return…

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

References that I'd like to point out of the things I featured, but there are more, happy hunting!

- The river crab (河蟹) is a euphemism describing internet censorship in China. When the Chinese government censors something it usually gives a reason constructing a "harmonious society" as a reason. Chinese internet users used "harmonious" (和谐) as a euphemism for censorship, when the word "censorship" was censored. When the government started censoring "harmonious", the term "river crab" came into use as it sounds similar to "harmonious."

- The simulation is a parody of Japanese New Years Specials which usually involves some kind of special event fun, usually funny and harmless. This specifically parodies _Downtown's_ _Gaki no Tsukai ya Arahende_!! (ダウンタウンのガキの使いやあらへんで!!) and their infamous 24-hour batsu (punishment) games usually held during New Years. It can only be described as hell for anyone to go through it and hard to describe to anyone who hasn't seen it. There are English subtitles for some of these out on the internet, which I'll gladly direct via PM.

- On the other hand, I take a stab at MTV, for taking Silent Library (one of the more famous segments of the show above), ripping it out and creating an "American remake" to put it very lightly. Compared to the American version, the tasks executed on the comedians 5, 7, or even 8 years ago just don't measure up. It's not the same.

- That cross-dresser is a nod to Cpl. (later Sgt.) Maxwell Klinger of _M*A*S*H_ fame dressing up in dresses attempting to be discharged via Section 8 from the army.

* * *

A/N: Ten Chapters: Looking Back

If there's something I learned about capturing the feeling, emotions, and pressures of survival, I have come to an undeniable truth.

I know nothing.

I can confidently say that this is not because I haven't experienced the world 200 years after a nuclear war nor have I lost confidence in my research and writing but it's just that I have discovered something that puts a refreshing edge into capturing the bitter essence of survival. If you strip guns, cinematic explosions, and any unnecessary other things that make disaster movies so popular away, only human emotion remains. Panic, uncertainty, doubt, desperation; emotions which have been the most difficult to capture for anyone trying to work on describing aspects of a survival nature. I think I have found a series that captures all of that, without having to resort to cinematic explosions and unnecessary gunfights.

_Tokyo Magnitude 8.0_

It's an anime about if Tokyo was struck by a magnitude 8.0 earthquake. Short of depicting all sorts of outright mass chaos and murder, I'll admit, after three episodes, I'm hooked; I'll be following this series closely and learning from it. While I cannot affirm or refute their statement of the amount of research the people have done for the series, I can positively say it feels incredibly satisfying and I would highly recommend for anyone to take a look at this series just to take in the emotions of the characters and the broken world around them. I still have my old psychology textbooks with me but it's not dynamic enough. I've seen the survival shows they do on TV but even I admit they're glitzy; where it's almost shockingly predictable where the survival expert wins once again. I'll admit, freelance creations about survival depicted realistically is abnormally tough and it's best done by professional studios, authors, and media outlets.

But that shouldn't stop me or anyone else from trying.

Cheers.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Charlie Ain't Beautiful

A/N: Thanks to Argente for reviewing.

**_Disclaimer: All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course for mine and other characters that are featured in this story. I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review._**

**_

* * *

_**_"People try nonviolence for a week, and when it does not work, they go back to violence, which hasn't worked for centuries." -Theodore Roszak_

**Chapter 12: Charlie Ain't Beautiful**

Megan's Point of View:

I hardly moved from the spot I was set down by Todd and Ari hours ago. I don't remember how long I've sat here while Todd was scavenging for supplies in the wastes, or that's what he told me. He should be back soon. Damn him, he seems to be pretty poor with anticipating how long he's going to be out there doing his own business. To be honest, I should be with him to prevent him from doing something stupid, like nearly getting himself killed half the time. But there wasn't really anything I could do about my gunshot injuries; the stimpack had to do its business and I just had to wait. Stimpacks usually don't take this long do they? I didn't want to rip it out and make things worse than it needed to be.

But Walt though, he was an interesting man to talk to, despite being stuck behind an opaque glass panel that probably got that way because of the smoke. He and I would talk about history, arts, culture; anything except guns, violence, or whatever sardonic comments came out of Todd's mouth. He probably had the most extensive pre-war cultural knowledge all to himself. I don't know anyone else in the wastes that would have such an appreciation for the pre-war stuff. They probably were too focused on mindlessly killing each other than to stop for a moment and read a book. To be honest, I'd think they would rather use a book to beat someone over the head with than have the patience to read it.

Ari mainly kept to himself, only walking in a couple times to make sure the both of us were okay before he went back to his post.

As the room I was sitting in got progressively darker, I turned my PIP-BOY light on while Walt stood up and lit an old-fashioned wick lamp, likely to continue his browsing in the night hours. The small flame struggled to shine beyond the opaque wall. Maybe that's how it got like that.

"Walt, are you related to Ari?" I asked curiously.

"Biologically, no," Walt gruffly said. "But I'm afraid he might see me as a father figure, despite our physical separation."

"Then how did you meet?"

I heard Walt tapping his fingers, as if he was jogging his mind for that one particular memory. "Well, I was in this chair like I always have, browsing over the_Corpus Aristotelicum_, when I heard his irregular footsteps coming down from the hall. Even with the barrier between us, I could tell he was in terrible shape and told him to go farther down the hallway to find some medical supplies. Long story short, he got better and he thinks he owes a personal debt to me."

"That's because in my mind I still do, sir," Ari stood by the doorway with a lantern in hand, apparently catching at least the last bit of our conversation. "And I believe it was Plato's _Republic_, not Aristotle."

"I keep telling you; you don't need to call me 'sir', Ari." Walt reminded him. "I'm just a grizzled old man stuck behind a pane of glass."

Ari didn't respond, instead quietly excusing himself from the conversation, probably to return back to his post. That was weird; he acted normally when I got shot but why did he act so strange around Walt? Reluctance to follow through on that question nagged me; I didn't want to delve deeper.

"I'll never understand him," Walt commented. "He likes to run off and do his own thing. I'm sure you feel the same way concerning your partner don't you think?"

I sighed. There was no point in denying it; it was true. Why does he manage to get us into inconvenient or precarious situations? Forced deals and hostage situations were just the start. We could go off and split our own separate ways, but what good would come out of that? Damn, this guy seems to push the right emotional buttons. Even if he was intentionally trying to, I wouldn't have figured it out.

"Maybe," I shrugged unconvincingly. "I guess I'm forced to trust him. He's the only reliable person I know in this wasteland since we left the Vault."

"I see."

"But if I had a choice to pick again, it would still be Todd," I hopelessly admitted. "I just wish he'd let me make some more worthwhile decisions once in a while." Looking out over the darkened Charles, I wondered if my words were a true indicator of what I really felt or being drugged up by the stimpack and all. "Please don't tell him, okay?"

"You have my word."

Forcing whatever amount of strength I could muster into my legs to make me stand; I tried not to look at the humongous needle that was inserted into my arm. It nearly freaked me out just by looking at it. My legs were feeling stiff and were telling me that I've been sitting down for too long.

"I'm going for a short walk," I said to no one in particular.

"Sure thing," Walt replied, casually smoking another cigarette.

Damn it, what was taking him so long? Walking down the dreary hallways seemed to tempt me to finally give in, abandon all hope, and maybe return to Vault to attempt to live like none of these events ever happened. But I couldn't do that, the overseer was going to make a perfect example of me. Pushing my bangs out of my face, I wandered to sit on the same stairs that Todd and Ari carried me up.

Looking down at my rust colored hands stained with dust, sweat, grime, and blood, I kept wondering on what it would've been like if the vault was perfectly normal. Finding the guy of a girl's dreams was the thing to do in a metal hole in the ground, but I don't know if any guy would've appreciated my imperfections. Catching the eye of Evan didn't help either.

Hearing a slight whistling sound, I perked my head up. It instantaneously turned into a loud shriek before an explosion ripped throughout the whole building. My body was violently thrown down the stairs I was sitting on. What the hell was that? A sharp pain pierced through my arm, no doubt it was the stimpack stabbing deeper. I yanked it out of my arm and tossed the still oozing stimpack to the side and made a primitive tourniquet around where the stimpack's needle was in my arm.

Getting out of here was my first priority. Going back to see if Walt was alright was going to get me killed. Another explosion rocked the place, requiring me to put so much pressure on my good arm to prevent me from getting injured even further. I ungainly trembled down the stairway, running into Ari at the bottom.

"What's going on? Where's Walt? Is he alright?" he panicked, dropping his lantern at the sight of me. His husky hands clamped down on my shoulders. "Do you-"

"I don't know!" I yelled in his too close for comfort face, trying to get him to calm the fuck down.

"Walt must be still in-"

"He would've told you to save yourself, Ari!" I yelled louder. God, this guy was too concerned about an old geezer than his own young life. "You fucking idiot!"

Another explosion ripped through the building. It was going to collapse any minute and we were both standing here! Anxious to get out of this place, I started running, but Ari defiantly still had his hand on my shoulder. That naïve son of a bitch!

"Let me go!" I demanded.

"But- " He still kept trying to convince me to go along, unbelievable!

I've had it with this person! "If you want to play fucking hero and save Walt, go ahead!" I spat, managing to break his grip on me. "Don't drag me into this! Use your Railroad friends instead!"

My legs ran as fast as they could, trying to escape Ari's grasp and more importantly, getting myself out in one piece. The hallways were a blur as I tried to escape to relative safety. What a help Ari was! The first time he saw me, he ran over and helped me like it was nothing. Now whenever his old geezer was in danger, it was him over me and his own life! I'll never understand his blind devotion to a person he hasn't seen entirely in the flesh.

Running out into the cool darkness was a wonderful feeling, if not for the pain radiating throughout my arm. Another explosion caught me off guard, nearly sending me to the ground. I didn't know who'd want to raze the entire area to the ground, but a few missiles weren't going to do the trick. Thank god I was still armed if I had to fight anybody. Having a perfect shooting posture didn't matter; I could still fight, especially with VATS in hand.

It was a starless night tonight, with only the light of my PIP-BOY leading the way. There was a blown off brick building down the street, good enough to rest my weary body for the night. Not wanting to hurt my arm any further, I kicked down the door, stumbled through the cluttered store and up the steps to the blown off second floor. More explosions lit up the night sky and shook the ground. Just what the hell have I got myself into? There was supposed to be the Railroad around here right? I hope Todd had better luck than I had.

* * *

Todd's Point of View:

The simulation somehow turned from out of the ordinary and entertaining to cruel and unusual punishment. Those faceless dummies would never fail to try to get me caught so I could shout in pain and beg for mercy. Time seemed to pass too slowly; I don't remember how long I've been trapped in here. My guess is I've been stuck here for 16 hours. I'm guessing all that since the clock in the simulation has melted down into plastic.

Instead of having a lovely dinner without being concerned for my safety, it nearly blew up in my face. That was their way of tormenting me, a little marshmallow that spawned in the middle added insult to injury. So yeah, that's what I was up against. At least it was a simulation, just one horrible nightmare, or so I want to believe.

Another buzzer sounded and I was up and running again, trying to escape whatever cruel and unusually sadistic punishments they had for me. Surprisingly though, I didn't hear any footsteps, so I walked. A black mask with clear eye goggles materialized out of the air and quickly attached itself to my face. I looked around; trying to figure what was going on. Something sharp hit the back of my head. Reaching back behind my head, I felt something ooze.

The next one hit me right where it hit the most. "Shit!" I yelped before I ran with my hands between my legs. It turned into a barrage of hits, I was completely lit up.

"Stop! STOP!" I pleaded, curling up on the floor. God, they love torturing me! I was left to lie there motionless, groaning at the pain.

A few minutes passed and that stupid cross-dresser came out again in a very feminine nightgown, dangling three keys from his outstretched hands.

"Ah! Kitties!" he squealed. "I got hotel keys as a treat to my well behaved cats!"

They immediately grabbed the three keys and took off, like I even had a chance to even compete for those keys when I was still on the floor. Damn them.

"I'm so sorry, Markie!" he said, faking a poorly disguised look of sympathy. "You're going to have to sleep here tonight."

I shrugged; it couldn't be that bad could it? Giving this place up for a more comfortable hotel wasn't a bad deal. Hell, even the gym was a better place than being out in the elements. Despite my reluctance, I agreed and made the best of an unfortunate situation, to put it mildly. But what I didn't count on though, was being constantly attacked by more of those tortuous goons and their punishments while I was trying to sleep! Making other people feel miserable must be so much fun, especially in the dark!

By the time breakfast rolled around, I was nearly ready to snap and beat the crap out of all the virtual people. On top of that, I still had no idea what time it was outside of here. My spirits lifted as that cross-dresser finally dressed in something closer to his gender, albeit with a humongous clock around his neck.

"Surprise, surprise, surprise!" he chirped. "It's nearly over! Countdown everyone!"

Finally, it was going to be over! What a relief. I didn't participate in the countdown as my body floated off the ground and my vision turned to black. As soon as I could see my hands, I frantically pushed any and all sorts of buttons, anything to get me out of this faster.

When I finally forced myself out, I immediately scrambled for the nearest way out of the place, unsure if I was really back in the wasteland or that computer double crossed me and I was still trapped in the simulation. I burst out of a steel door and immediately into the dark and dusty, but strangely comforting, wasteland. Fearing that I might've grown a few extra mutations, I patted myself down, relieved that I still was not worse for wear. Looking down, I was relieved that my PIP-BOY was still attached to my arm. Despite all this, I had to get back.

The ground rumbled underneath my feet again, either it was an earthquake or it was another artillery strike. A loud shriek pierced through the darkness; I turned my head to the sound of that. My eyes focused on the fireball to the north.

"Crap! Crap! Crap!" I muttered. Abandoning all common sense and rational thinking, I rushed toward where the action was; across the irradiated Charles River once more. My PIP-BOY loved to tick if I went anywhere near the water.

Not long after I crossed the river, another loud shriek pierced through the night and I braced up against a brick wall. The noise and the shockwave nearly squashed me against it. It could have been much worse.

When the barrage paused for a moment, I ran the rest of the way back, only to find a pile of rubble where the building once stood. If Walt and Ari couldn't have survived that, neither could've Megan. She was… dead?

Hopelessness and defeat hung over my head. I walked into the nearest building, the one with its floors blown off, and stumbled up to the blown off upper floor, wondering if I should do the same with my head. I took out my pistol and clutched it with an iron grip. However, my arms trembled violently as I brought it up to my the end though, I couldn't do it. I let it drop to the floor.

"Damn it!" I pounded the floor. "Why am I such a failure?" I muttered. God, I'm pathetic. A simple food gathering mission turned into this!? I'm so pathetic!

"Goddammit!" I collapsed on my knees. "Why?"

"Jesus Chirst, Todd. You talk too much." I sprang up, waving my PIP-BOY light all over the place until I focused it on Megan. She was resting against a partially blown out wall, her hand clutching her arm.

"Are you alright? Are you hit?" I said frantically.

"Thank god you came," she coughed weakly. "I'll be fine but, Walt… I think he lied to us."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't see a Railroad group. Do you?"

Going into VATS, it didn't seem to lock onto any human targets. Maybe she was right. "Have any ideas?" I asked.

Before she could respond, we were cut off by another loud scream and I immediately dived to the floor. Another deafening explosion nearly knocked me out, no doubt another shell landing too close for comfort. I hated those things. It only reinforced how powerless we were against those things. I knew even VATS couldn't target them.

Staying here was out of the question. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah," she grumbled, forcing her legs to stand up. "I told you, I'll be fine."

One of her knees gave in and she fell into my arms. Obviously she wasn't okay, especially with the wrappings on her arm. We weren't going to fare so well if she was going to be tripping every ten feet. I helped her down the crumbling stairs by the light of my PIP-BOY and stopped at the bottom.

"I'm not an old lady, you know," she fussed.

"But you're walking like one," I pointed out. "C'mon, we gotta get out of here." I bent down. "I'll carry you. I don't wanna have you killing yourself every three feet."

After taking longer than a few awkward moments to come up with how to carry her without freaking her out, I inched out into the street. Carrying her torso across my shoulders wasn't too bad at first; she wasn't complaining. It got a lot harder from there, with me continuing on what borrowed strength I could muster. My hands were moving all over the place; I was tired and they knew it.

"Don't touch my ass, you pervert!" Megan squealed. Damn it, now she complains.

"That was nowhere near your ass."

As if things couldn't have gone any worse, gunshots echoed through the night. Fearing the worst, I headed toward the nearest building and kicked its rotten wooden door down. I let Megan down in a pinstriped back room, hopefully out of sight from whoever was patrolling around this area. Crossing that damn radioactive river would have to come tomorrow; I was not looking forward to that.

"Can you still eat?"

It looked like Megan tried to say something but her coughing interrupted her response; she nodded instead.

"It's not much," I sighed. My shoulders felt sore as I grabbed that small jar of honey out of my pocket. "But here, eat up. At least it's something."

Megan smiled and wordlessly took the small jar from my hand and began eating from there. My stomach growled. Goddammit, I knew I should've taken something from that simulation though I wasn't sure if it would've shriveled up into dust when I took it out.

My eyes were feeling heavy and I had a terribly long day on top of that. Trying to summon up one last push of energy was useless. I crumpled to the floor, my head resting on Megan's firm thigh.

"Todd! What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. With that tone, I'm guessing she wanted to strangle me.

"Just shut up and get some sleep," I yawned. I switched my PIP-BOY light off. Tomorrow was going to be a just as long and confusing day. At least I know now not to carelessly trap myself in a simulation ever again.

* * *

Morning couldn't have come soon enough for me, waking up at any hint of sun's rays making their way through this place. Obviously, I still wasn't used to having natural light being so pleasant in the morning. I sat up and rubbed my eyes; at least I could still see out of them. Planning for the journey ahead, I checked my PIP-BOY and especially my dosimeter, which was the only one that could tell me how much radioactive crap my body was bombarded with. Thankfully, I could try and barely attempt at least one more crossing.

Megan was still sleeping peacefully against the pinstripe wall I set her down against last night. My stomach growled again, longing for the lovely meals I had in the simulation. I heard footsteps coming down the street, which unfortunately got progressively louder. Good thing Megan was still asleep when I rushed back into the back room and dragged her by her collar, hopefully out of sight and out of worry. Then it turned into an agonizing period of waiting behind a goddamn counter so full of dust and other funny smells that it might've made me sneeze my own piss out of my nose.

Eventually after a few more agonizing minutes though, someone did come in. No wait, more like burst in.

"Jimmy you dipshit! Come out and fight like a man!" he yelled. "Dropping Castrol oil down my pants is all you can do!? Come out and fight!"

This guy is hilarious how he worded that whole thing. Unfortunately, the rank smell was not. My head was succumbing to the nauseating smells and I wanted to sneeze so badly. I was afraid I was going to do both. Oh crap, I couldn't hold in anymore. I sneezed; that was probably the worst one of my life.

"Who's there!? I don't care who you are, come out you cowardly bitch!"

Crap, crap, crap! Of all times! I heard something rattle. It couldn't be his rifle right? If it was, he was terrible, just asking to get jumped and strangled. I inched my head up as far as I could without being noticed. He had an R91 assault rifle clutched in a death grip, his clothing and spiky hair matching the equally brown stock on his rifle.

Having some fun with my bare hands to strangle the poor bastard sounded like a whole lot of fun but my cover was blown and VATS was much simpler. Scooting back so I could get a clear shot at him, I aimed two shots at his head and let VATS do the fucking magic. He dropped dead to the floor and his lovely, used assault rifle was mine for the taking, full automatic power at my fingertips. Jimmy would love to see this, if he existed.

"AAAH!" Megan screamed and blindly rushed out of the back room, freezing at the sight of another body in the front. Gunfire was such an abnormally efficient alarm clock.

"The perfect Wasteland start, gunfire and dead bodies in the morning! "I cockily smirked, trying to suppress my growing feeling of busting out and laughing.

"You-"

"Want some fries with that?" I grinned maniacally. I chuckled before letting seriousness take over. "Well, he _was _armed and ready to shoot," I quipped. "Better him than me."

More importantly, I went to the necessary task of searching the corpse for anything of use. I made no effort to hide what I was doing away from Megan. She would have to do it soon; maybe when I find a female corpse to make the whole process easier on her. Other than the assault rifle, there wasn't anything much left on him, just a few extra bullets and a meager amount of stashers. Certainly extremely disappointing since we lost all our stashers but it was still better than nothing.

We walked down to the Charles River and crossed without too many problems. If there wasn't a firefight or if somebody didn't lose one of their limbs then it was all good. I managed to hold my tempter and avoid a fight with more of those bulletproof crabs. With all the grass they pick up and eat, it must taste delicious.

Jesus, how does the wasteland get so dry, dusty and hot? The longer we walked sweat trickled down my face, my cracked throat was begging for something other than spit, my head throbbed from I don't know what. So much for that original estimate; I'm too damn optimistic. There was no way I was going to find him or stumble upon the Railroad at this pace; I was going to die before accomplishing any of those goals.

The shriveled stumps weren't particularly appealing to see either. Their branches looked more appealing for someone to hang themselves on if they ever ran out of bullets. Now a ruined brick building sticking out of the landscape however; looked a hell of a lot more appealing. We meandered through the mess of brush, rubble, and rusted trucks and shipping containers and keenly invited ourselves in, heading up the metal staircase to the second floor. Hopefully, we would be out of the way in case a firefight started down below.

There were a few ghouls in this place unsurprisingly, but taking care of their sorry asses was not a problem. I didn't have to fire a shot; bashing their wrecked bodies in with my fists, feet, or my rifle worked just fine.

We took a break in a room that had some holes in the ceiling; the paint was peeling off in most places, but otherwise looked structurally sound. I sat down on an old and squeaky swivel chair and kicked my feet up onto the desk. Sleepiness wanted to knock me out right there, but I couldn't let it. Megan sure wouldn't.

"I gotta find some raider chicks to kill," I said. "To help you practice looting some booty from a body."

"Don't be stupid," she crossed her arms. "That's not going to happen. You know me."

"I'm not being stupid; you've been ignoring that fact ever since we left the Vault. It's inevitable Megan, whether you like it or not."

"Stop treating me like a kid!" she spat. Okay, where did this argument come from? I'm certainly not treating her like one.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me you stupid son of a bitch! You know damn well what I'm talking about." Holy shit. As if I needed more drama to deal with. "I can tell Walt about my nagging thoughts and misgivings. Why can't I with you? Is it because you're the biggest smartass this fucked up world has to produce?!"

That was it. I can take abuse but after all that I had done for her, all bets were off. I instinctively punched her in the forehead. She needed that, to get her back to a little something called reality. Megan stumbled back and fell onto the cracked and dirty linoleum floor.

"After all this," I growled, stalking over to her. "This is how I get rewarded? With cheap insults?!"

If she wanted to make me feel like shit, I could certainly return that favor. What she could match in words, I could certainly match with action. I raised my foot over her face, but stopped at the sight of her hand trying to defend her nose and mouth. Her green eyes pleaded for me to stop and forget that this all happened, but I couldn't just let this slide and totally forget all this.

"Get away from me!" A scream echoed throughout the building. It definitely did not come from Megan; my ears would've bled from that distance.

Setting my foot down, I walked to go investigate that noise. Maybe I could find a new companion that actually respected my thoughts and actions as well as theirs.

"Todd, wait!"

I stopped and rested my hand on the doorframe. I didn't look back, I didn't want to.

"I'll give you a choice Megan. If you want, I intend, from my end, to work things out between the both of us. I'll admit it won't be quick, cheerful, and certainly won't be free from conflict. Otherwise, you're free to do whatever the hell you want. If we do meet again though, it will be on much less friendlier terms."

Not looking back or quivering during all of that, I went down the hallways and corridors of this place, alone. Uncertainty popped into my head from time to time but I couldn't let it cloud my thoughts. Time was not on my side; I couldn't let this opportunity to scab resources off another person, good or evil, go to waste.

The voices were loudest beyond that blue door. Checking my PIP-BOY, there were five dots behind it. I needed all the element of surprise I could get. Slipping the door open just wide enough for me to slip through, I took out my pistol and stayed in the shadows. I was on a catwalk above the ground floor, giving me a clear view of all the action. Squatting down helped my stealth even more; this was perfect.

A black haired woman with a dirtied lab coat was tied up and kneeled down on the floor. There was a female wastelander with spiky green hair having fun with her prisoner.

"So you're the famous Dr. Madison, Madison Li?" she cackled, pointing her gun in her prisoner's face. "Com'on then! Give us some of that _Project Purity_ water you keep mouthing about! Crazy bitch! Oh, I know! Can you shit pure water out of your ass? Go on! Do it!"

The rest of them laughed. There was another male wastelander standing behind Dr. Li. I couldn't tell if he was armed. There was another one walking on the same catwalk as I was. The last one must be outside; there's no doubt he's armed, or at least he should be. Four on one, huh? They didn't look too burly. With all the built up emotions ready to be unleashed on five poor shits, I was ready to give all of them a bad day and shove their heads into the ground for good measure.

Still squatted, I sneaked up behind him and immediately weaved my arm over his shoulder and forced my hand over his mouth while I struck him over the head with my pistol in the other. The loot was nothing special, just a few rounds of ammunition that didn't look like it could fit into either of my weapons. I holstered my pistol and eased my brand new assault rifle off my back. Breathing shallowly, I braced myself for the anticipating shootout to follow.

That green haired bitch forced Dr. Li's chin up and pointed her gun squarely between her eyes. "I wonder if your blood is just as pure as your water. I know heads make great fountains."

This was it, showtime. I went into VATS, targeting the green haired lady with a three round burst and the guy next to her with another one. VATS did its job beautifully, crunching the numbers, reducing the loud cracks of gunfire to a dull drone, and just out anything to make killing so strangely detached and wonderful at the same time. They went down without a problem.

VATS loved to sap my strength though. The sights on the rifle were swaying. I fired a few non-VATS shots randomly, hopefully tagging him behind the sheet metal wall. He was pretty good though; my shots were missing him and his were certainly ricocheting off the catwalk. I dropped down from the catwalk. A bullet grazed me while ducking in and out of cover, anything to get him to blow his own. My chance came as he bent down to reload, with me being on my last few precious shots. I aimed at his exposed foot and fired.

He dropped his rifle and screamed in pain, must have hit his Achilles tendon or something. I ran up to him and pointed the gun at his forehead. His red hair and brown eyes told me he knew it was all over.

"Life is too short, ain't it?" I said before firing.

Dr. Li was lying on the floor but she was still tied up, freeing her was not my priority. I don't trust outsiders, especially if they're saying they are a doctor. Any doctor could mouth some kind of bullshit and I'd be forced to trust them. Dead men though, were the easiest to trust. It's not like they would rise from the dead. Stashers, some partially emptied magazines, and some were all that I found. Damn it, no food or stimpacks, though I wouldn't expect everyone to carry stimpacks. I casually sat down on one of the bodies and wordlessly loaded my magazines. It was an awkward silence with the clacking of the rounds being loaded echoing throughout the room. It would make any sane person scared.

Dr. Li was the first to break the silence. Her brown eyes looked intensely at me. "Hey, are you fucking blind?! Let me out of here!"

"It depends," I raised an eyebrow. "You claim to be a doctor and you kept spouting shit about Project Purity and clear water. I'd say you're mad and you deserved to be shot long before I came along. Why should I trust you?"

"I'll give you caps!"

"We don't play with bottle caps here."

"Don't play dumbass," she retorted sternly. "You have a PIP-BOY on. Shouldn't you be in a Vault?"

"I don't need to be reminded of Vault life, lady. I've had enough with it."

"You should be still in a Vault but there should be a Brotherhood of Steel detachment set up someplace; there was one in DC. I'd never trust them again and neither should you but they'll take good care of you. I guarantee it."

Brotherhood of Steel? Washington DC? Taking care of me? On top of all the other bullshit? Lies. All of this crap can't be true. I got up from the body I was sitting on and loaded a fresh magazine in my rifle. Walking up to her, I pointed the gun at her face. She needed to be gone from this one and I will make sure she does not spread these poisoned lies to others.

"I haven't heard of a Brotherhood of Steel and gallons of pure water," I said with a cold calmness. "Are they all true?"

A gunshot rang out, followed by a thump and a clang. Looking down out of the corner of my eye, I saw a knife resting by my ankle with the tip of the rusted blade pointed dangerously close to my feet. Had I not been saved by that, that knife would have plunged into my head, or worse. Not to mention being used against Dr. Li as well.

I raised my rifle up to my shoulders, my sights scanning around the upper floor, where I was just on.

"Who's there?" I yelled.

Megan came out of the door with her dimmed PIP-BOY light on, clearly exposing herself in the shadows. She rested her hands on the railing. I don't know if she was trying to stare me down or what.

"Oh, it's you," I scowled. "What do you want?"

"Todd, I've made up my mind," she announced, brushing her bangs out of her face. She took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled out.

_I…_

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

_

* * *

_

References: There are more so happy hunting!

"Surprise, surprise, surprise!" is a famous catchphrase uttered by Gomer Pyle (played by Jim Nabors, not Vincent D'Onofrio) in the classic TV series _Gomer Pyle, USMC_ and _The Andy Griffith Show_.

There is also a reference to the Castrol Edge commercial "Think with your dipstick." If you haven't seen it yet, you don't know what you're missing.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Fenway Crumbles

**Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, my characters and storyline, and other trademarks and references that may be featured in this story. **

"_One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope." -Steven Deitz_

**Chapter 13: Fenway Crumbles  
**

Dr. Li's POV:

I didn't think I left the Capital Wasteland to pursue higher scientific pursuits. That was all a ruse. My opportunity to change the world was long gone. The flame of inspiration had burned out. Burning my old lab coat somewhere along the way would be a nice send off but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Following the pre-war routes to the Commonwealth, I traveled alone and didn't look back. If the Brotherhood had any sentiment of my departure, it never stuck on me.

I arrived in the Commonwealth about a month ago. All I wanted to be was as far away from the Brotherhood of Steel as fucking possible, but I've been handed a far bigger curse. It never ceased to amaze me how every wasteland asshole I come across figures I was entirely responsible for Project Purity. Even if was partially true, James should get the credit after all, I definitely wanted no part of it. Trying to explain that to unbelievably stupid ingrates was like arguing with a super mutant, so I gave up. At first, I'd thought I wouldn't be a heartless bitch and direct people to the fresh water. Mainly so I could give the Brotherhood hell on earth in the form of unceasing water demands. Their responses were always the same though. Goddamn it! I hated their responses!

"But you're a doctor, why don't you build it here?" They all asked.

Yeah, from Baltimore to New York, I'm expected to be some kind of miracle worker to these people. Build it here? They're out of their fucking minds! How the hell do they expect me to replicate what took James and I nearly all our lives in DC? For the love of God, age has gotten to me. Unlike a serene old grandma, I don't have the patience to listen to those people beg. The life expectancy for a wastelander was low, they just had to get used to it. I couldn't do anything about it as I only had barely enough supplies to last me to the Commonwealth.

Surprisingly, the Enclave weren't that bad during the times I ran across them, despite what many a bigoted wastelander had thought of them. I just had to give up some of my time and my stimpacks to negotiate an uneasy compromise, nothing bad there. Beyond the power armor they cloak themselves in; they're just the same as a normal human being on the inside. They were thankful for whatever help I could provide and would let me pass through undisturbed. It helped that they were rational of their expectations. It was comforting to run across thinking men who don't demand so much out of me.

As for what I want to do when I get there, it's mainly to work and live the rest of my life in solitude. James never really was an outgoing person until he met Catherine and neither was I. That bitch from Baltimore. Right in front of my face, he decided to propose to Catherine while we were doing lab tests in the bowels of the Jefferson Memorial. Goddammit, I should've told him back then but I acted like it never even happened. When he gathered everyone in the gift shop to announce that she was pregnant, I wished it was my child. It devastated me when Catherine suddenly died, I'll admit that. But as he took his only child and ran off to find a habitable Vault, he betrayed all his life goals, and mine. Now that he's been gone for about a year or so, well, I hope the Institute can provide me that solitude that I crave and the stability that I need.

What were those two wanderers again? That's right, Todd and Megan. They reminded me of James and me when we were much younger. We'd bicker occasionally over admittedly irrelevant things but I was willing to swallow my ego and move on, essentially kiss and make up. Just like them, ironically. Todd reminds me so much of James' son when I first met him; an arrogant and cocky son of a bitch that had just enough luck and combat skills to keep him alive. Thank god Megan's there with him to instill some common fucking sense into him, like getting me untied for one.

Meeting up with Vault dwellers to find a shady Institute, from what I've heard, hardly interacts with anybody aside from shelling them to bits, ranks as one of the craziest things I've ever come across. It doesn't come close to anything to the likes of Project Purity, but still. Well, at least their VATS systems were working fine but who knew what they could do to me. They could instantly target me and I'd be powerless to escape. Any practical doctor out here carries their own knife, I was no exception, but I was without a gun. I know it's suicidal but once you're caught with a gun, the credibility of a doctor goes straight to hell.

"Hey, you," Todd called. "What do you know about stimpacks?"

I wouldn't expect Vault dwellers to remember names to begin with, especially mine. "They treat injuries or they bring a crippled limb back to life, easy," I shrugged. Stimpacks should be the same, no matter which wasteland they came from. "They get to work instantly and have a near 100% success rate, why?"

"I call bullshit!" he scowled. "They're fucking painful and don't work half the time!"

I asked him to pull out one of his stimpack and I did the same, to compare them side by side. Just from glancing off of it, I knew that mine was the superior product. Compared to the near glowing red, pinkish fluid of mine, his were something I'd throw away in a heartbeat. No wonder they causing so much suffering. What was that old hack from the Commonwealth, Zimmern right? Spewing all sorts of propaganda about how superior the Commonwealth was to us. Lies. They probably hoarded the best technology all to themselves.

"You wouldn't have any spares would you?" They asked almost in unison. Vault wanderers are too cute in their naiveté. Even though I just got here, I probably have more information than the two of them combined.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have enough," I lied. These whelps were a lost cause.

"Oh, ok," he said rather disappointingly. I didn't want to seem like a heartless bitch but if the shit hit the fan, I'd find myself out of here. James, I hope you're watching, because once I get to the Institute, you'd wish you hadn't died for your Project Purity rubbish. I'll show you what I can achieve without your goddamn help.

A low rumble passed overhead, probably fast-movers. I heard there was an old Air Force base in the vicinity and the Brotherhood may have moved in already. They could choke on all the technology that they find for all I care, not that they need it. Lyons or Rothchild might have sent one of their plucky paladins to act as some sort of kiss ass representative in the area. I didn't want to entertain that thought; that made me sick.

What I was more interested in were how useful these escaped vaulties may be. Vaulties have a very good control coefficient, in my opinion.

He opened the door nervously, "What was that? It's safe to go outside again, right?"

I feigned like I didn't know anything and followed them out the building. There were a few things up my sleeve I could use to get away.

* * *

Todd's POV:

"Ohh yess! It burns!" I muttered sarcastically as I stepped out into the landscape.

My rifle slid down over my shoulder and into my arms like a wounded old comrade begging for death's sweet embrace. I wasn't finished with it, not quite yet. It still needs more time to prove itself. I glanced over my shoulder, thinking Megan was in the same boat as well. Even up to this point, I tried to not get my temper the best of me. Was it because I had her in tow? Someone that I was forced to take care of? I couldn't help but wonder about the possibilities if I hadn't taken her with me. Maybe things would've been much easier.

Even though I tried not to show it, I had every right to be suspicious about the witch doctor. From my standpoint, she was looking at us sometimes like we were her long lost guinea pigs or something. For the love of God, I should've shot her right there! But since I had the medical know-how of a fucking tool, it would've been a costly decision.

We stopped right near a lean-to to give the ladies a rest from the heat. The blue and yellow poles had their paint peeling and rusted rebar sticking out all over the place but it was still sturdy enough. Kicking it a few times proved my point. I looked out determinedly over the god-forsaken hell of the landscape. My journey never got me any closer to finding that son of a bitch.

Dr. Li spoke up. "Are you sure you're heading where the Institute is?"

I was going to formulate a response but I heard another high-pitched wail. It was no doubt another shell but it wasn't going to hit any of us. However, its noise did a lovely job in interrupting a conversation.

"The safer way at least," I shrugged. "That shell's one of many welcome gifts, get used to it."

"I've been handed far better welcoming gifts," she retorted.

"Fucking hell." I mumbled, shifting my tired arms around my rifle.

The bitchy doctor lit up a cigarette. Jesus Christ. She was one contradiction after another. Weren't doctors supposed to be kind and all?

"I thought doctors already knew that cigarettes were bad for you," Megan commented.

"The water's not much better," she shrugged. "That's why we tried to make it clean. To change to world, if you will."

"Who's 'we'?"

"I was a part of a scientific team and," she swallowed, "one of their kids… on Project Purity."

"Where are they now?" I asked. "Maybe they can come up here and cure the water."

"Well… they're probably all dead by now," Dr. Li said. "And I'm too old to do anything useful."

"But then what's a doctor doing up here looking for the Institute?" I asked suspiciously, finding it doubtful that a doctor would ever come up here to actually help us. "I'm sure they have enough doctors to cover their asses."

"It's personal," Dr. Li dropped her cigarette on the ground and snuffed it with her shoe. Yeah right, finding the Institute. That's about as personal as someone raping you up the ass. "Don't ask, it's often very messy."

But getting bogged down in other people's messy life stories was not something I found particularly interesting. The winds picked up, shoving all sorts of dust and crap into my face. I slung my rifle back over my shoulder and found something to cover the end of the barrel with. Better have a gun that goes "bang!" and not "boom!"

"How about you find something with four sides and a roof, Todd?" Megan said.

We moved on like a wandering trio of stooges. There was always a chance that we would inevitably get lost because if your tech hasn't been working in decades, chances are it's going to be fucked up.

The blowing of dust was just a prelude to the sea of red the wasteland was blanketed in. Never seen anything like it. I thought those were made up to scare some Vault kiddie into never leaving his sanitary hellhole. Not only could we hardly see what was in front of us, talking was rendered useless. Seeing a darkened figure point straight ahead was my only clue that we had found something to relieve ourselves from the biting dust storm.

Beating the onslaught of dust, I stumbled in and forced the door shut with my body. I guess finally we could rest and wait it out. Yet another delay in my search. I'm sure he was still out there. If he ever dared to wander into the outside world, he must at least know more than a few things about it. Looking up, I saw Megan casually leaning next to a small slit where the reddish glow was let in.

It went awkwardly silent for a few moments before I murmured, "Am I any closer to finding him?"

"He could be anywhere, Todd," Megan crossed her arms sympathetically, like someone telling me to move on. "The fact that he didn't leave you with anything should tell you something."

"She's right," Dr. Li said calmly. She must have been betrayed that badly to say that with hardly a hint of tact. "He should've left you a holodisk note if he cared that much about you. At least James did that to his kid to save him the mental torture."

Mental torture? Hah! I was going to tell them of my little adventure of mental torture but they'd look at me like I've been taking a hell of a lot of drugs. The only thing I could do was smirk inwardly. They had no fucking idea of what I had been through. Megan especially had no idea. Yeah, if we were both willing to think back and re-organize ourselves.

Something else caught my eye as the reddish glow faded from the room. "That was fast," I said.

"Dust storms usually don't last very long, maybe for a few minutes at best," the Doctor explained.

It couldn't hurt to do a little recon, just to familiarize myself if we got caught in one of those things again. I headed toward the door.

"Todd, where are you going?" Megan asked.

"Stay here," I said, pushing my PIP-BOY buttons to save my current location so I could return back. "I'm going to go for a little walk."

"What the hell are you thinking, Todd?"

I slid my rifle down my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I won't be gone for long."

And so I found myself back in the wasteland once again. There quite a bit of ruined railroad cars tossed around like a super mutant had banged a few together. Gleaning for any speck of useful aid I could find, I searched some of the boxcars, but no luck. I was ready to go meet back up with the ladies when I heard some kind of commotion nearby. The bars came back green on my PIP-BOY. They shouldn't be hostile but the curiosity got the better of me. They could be the Railroad for all I knew and if the shit hit the fan, I had VATS.

I dashed into another railcar and let the drama unfold in front of me. There were four guys in covered those monolithic pieces of armor from head to toe approaching a group of wastelanders twice their numbers. I think I remember reading across those. Those were T-51b power armor right? They looked odd though, I don't recall them having yellow eyes.

"I will only say this once. We're from the Institute. Cooperate fully and you will not be harmed. Got it?" The lead one spoke up in an unusually flat tone.

There was no response from the wastelanders. Instead, they pulled out whatever weapon they had on them. From pistol, to magnum revolver, to assault rifle, they unloaded everything they had on the intruders. But strangely, there was no return fire from the intruders. Not even a shred of panic was expressed though their armor.

When the hail of bullets stopped, they were still standing in the same spot, not having moved an inch. I was dumbfounded. The turds right in front of them must be shitting in their pants right now. There was no way their armor could have absorbed all of those hits.

"What would you like us to do, Lieutenant?" The one on his right casually asked.

"They deserve to be erased from this planet like always, Sergeant. All units search and destroy."

"Yes, sir!" They all replied in unison.

It was not even close. It was a slaughter; like a butcher that relished in brutally sawing every little screaming pig's head while it was still alive. I could tolerate the agony and the killing, but only for a moment. At least the wasteland gave me some immunity from that.

"Where's my androids? I want my androids!" The Lieutenant chanted.

He and the rest of the members in his squad tore into the boxcars and shacks like nothing, grabbing anybody that was foolish enough to think that was enough protection. Their bodies were forcefully raked through holes barely wide enough for them to squeeze though. By that time, I could barely take it anymore. Their screams and begging for mercy forcefully etched their way into my head. Holy crap. I don't know what that crazy bitch saw in the Insitute.

Over the noise of screams and energy weapons, I could hear and feel a loud crunch of metal, definitely someone punching through steel. No doubt someone else was going to have their torso sliced open. That was my cue to get my ass out of here and not get lit up. Hell, I could even be mistaken for an android for all they cared about.

I followed my PIP-BOY back to the marker to find smoke billowing out... Smoke! Those bastards couldn't have set fire to the building! I rushed back with a mix of emotions, although I was secretly hoping that the Doctor might've died in that. After kicking down the door, I used my PIP-BOY to scan the darkened room. I picked up a faint cough, which guided me to Megan but I couldn't locate the damn doctor anywhere. Trying to hold my breath as long as possible, I dragged Megan outside and laid her to rest.

"Megan, what the fuck happened?" I asked while I was catching my breath. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. But that... that bitch," Megan wheezed, wiping some of the grime off her face. "It was her!"

"Where is she!? I'll fucking kill her!"

"There's no use. She's long gone, Todd. She must've had some sort of special-"

"You can tell me all you want about it later," I interrupted. "We gotta get the hell out of here!"

Damn it, I should have shot her when I had the chance! Not knowing if she could walk or not, I forced her arm over my shoulder and staggered along and over the rails the best we could. Anything to escape the Institute demons in the area sounded like a good idea. They had armor of the gods. I still couldn't get over the fact that their armor stopped well over 100 bullets. The only way that was possible was through a miracle.

We struggled through rubble and the thorny underbrush as we kept dragging our feet on the ground. Even though my shoulders were taking most of the brunt, I couldn't help but feel a certain liking to this person. It was strange, yes but I hoped it wouldn't get in the way. Random thoughts of her kept popping in my mind but I had better things to concern myself with.

We were moving in a south or southeasterly direction but frankly, any direction away from people that could rip my body out of a railcar was good enough for me. The chaos seemed to fade as we inched farther from that goddamn railyard, but those screams never faded. I did my best for pain management but I'm not sure if that was ever enough.

"Todd," she whimpered as she stumbled and fell into my arms once again.

Now that I thought about it, I had a feeling she was right after all. Maybe I've become too hard-headed for my own good and we're not going anywhere because of it. Overcoming that little fight was a start but it finally became clearer to me that I needed to do better. I was so close to wandering this wasteland all alone, without anyone. Megan would have been particularly devastated as well. She had absolutely nothing going for her except me.

I saw a burned out townhouse that looked sturdy enough, helped her in, and settled her down on a ruined couch. I gave her some of the radioactive water that I had. Even though I knew that it might make her feel worse than before, I was shooting in the dark anyway without a doctor. It was just the two of us now, hiding. How pathetic can this be?

Megan was the first to speak. "I needed to pee so I tried to find a secluded corner. The next thing I heard was a clang and then the smoke filled the room."

I sat down on one of the chairs. "And she bolted?"

Megan frowned, "Like a bitch with her tail between her legs."

I tugged my pants. "I should've shot her or left her there earlier. Seriously, why did you ever convince me to set her free or even ask her to come along?"

"I'm sorry Todd, I didn't know. I'm sure you wouldn't have known unless it was pointed out in front of you."

To be honest even though she seemed suspicious, I didn't know her intentions either. But that bitch was a doctor. Hell, if doctors couldn't be trusted in this miserable place, I don't think anyone could be. So much for the rosy picture I had for the Institute. I hated the fact that if I had taken some shots at those bastards in power armor, I would've met the same fate as those people they dragged out and killed. I looked out some of the holes in the ashen, brick building and wondered. Wondering why the wasteland couldn't be a little easier.

* * *

Megan's POV:

To be fair, I was wrong sometimes too but Todd is too thickheaded. Honestly, are all men like this? I still have to feel some sympathy for him though, especially with Dr. Li's comments sometimes. She's spent a good amount of time in another wasteland, yeah I know that. But what the hell did Todd ever do to make her so bitter? I wouldn't go so far to shoot her myself with my own hands but she would have been better finding the Institute by herself if she wasn't a doctor. It was like she made my comments even more obvious and rubbing salt on those cutting words to make it feel better.

"You're right," Todd sighed. "I didn't either. But look, I don't think we should be so trusting of other people in the future."

Okay, it's a start. He was moving in the right direction, at least thinking rationally. "Yeah, I can agree to that."

I'm still not quite done with Todd. Not yet. If he thinks I'm only good for being a pushover, I wouldn't mind pulling my gun out of my trenchcoat and point my gun between his eyes. I took this coat and the .45 from a bitch who obviously didn't deserve it for nothing. But sometimes, I would often wish of becoming a lone vigilante. Though the more I thought about it, the more it sounded crazy as hell. The last way of traveling the wasteland would be alone.

But right now, I tried to fight some of the aches and pains of dealing with a whole bunch of crap. From smoke grenades, to gunshot wounds, to general tiredness, I'd say my body has been through a lot. Not beaten up as much as Todd's, no doubt, but I'd love to see a little vaultie girl scream at the sight of the wasteland.

I was curious of what actually happened on Todd's little recon mission and why we had to leave the area abnormally quickly. "Hey, what did you find on your little recon of the area?"

"The Institute," Todd shrugged while he was looking over his assault rifle.

I straightened up, suddenly becoming very interested in his answer, "Really, where is it? Is it nearby?"

God, I hoped so. Frankly, I didn't know too much about wastelanders but they seemed to be a bitch to deal with on a day-to-day basis. They would probably be even worse than Todd, as they'll find absolutely anything to moan and whine about. At least the only sounds a ghoul could make were gargling and groveling. Compared to those two, dealing with other civilized beings was a godsent. And admittedly, I was beginning to miss some of the Vault's pleasures of technology, like pure water for starters.

"Their soldiers, not their place. Don't get your hopes too high up there."

Typical. Giving some sardonic answer instead of a serious one. "Well, at least tell me something. It's not like you dragged your balls through the wasteland and expected to hit something."

And so having won the war of words, Todd told me. What I couldn't believe was complete wearable armor protection from head to toe, and one that could stop a bucketful of bullets. I knew at least some practical knowledge of guns, like the higher the caliber the more of an impact it will have. I never expected we'd have some sort of god-like organization striking fear into not only this wasteland, but probably into others. The worst part was that they probably realized that long before we have.

"So… we're screwed if we ever come across them?"

"Not screwed," Todd explained. "Fucked."

It didn't surprise me too much, I was expecting that. We sat there in a kind of an awkward silence for a bit while my body slowly recovered to a barely acceptable level. I knew it was far from the best but as the Institute could be at any turn, we had to keep moving.

I stretched out a bit. "Let's get out of here, Todd," I said.

"Are you going to be okay like this? You need to rest."

"I'll be fine," I half-lied. I could push it off until the next respite. "The Institute is probably on our ass right now."

* * *

Todd's POV:

I walked down the long and straight streets, ready to duck into cover or hide in a building at a moment's notice. The streets probably looked much different back in the olden days, without anyone expecting it to be deserted for this long. We decided to head closer the city itself, where it would probably be safer than in the wild desert of the outer wasteland. I tried to stay out of the wide avenues as goddamn snipers could be anywhere. Trying to beat them at their own game with an assault rifle was suicide.

The thing I hated the most about heading into the city was all the nasty surprises in store for me. Actually, it was Megan's idea to head into a death trap as I wanted to stay out in the countryside more. It was at least more predictable if I could see what was exactly in front of my face. The cars were land mines. If being bullet magnets weren't bad enough, they were ancient enough to explode like a fucking mini supernova if even a few rounds hit them. Traveling though the city would probably be slow going because every step we took could literally be our last.

The worst part about it was that our enemies probably knew the city from top to bottom and we didn't. It was like swimming in a shark tank. Every time we heard an explosion go off in the street, we tried not to say anything in the buildings we took cover in. They could be right above us for all I knew and one grenade dropped through the hole would make instant mincemeat of our bodies.

As I turned a corner, the last sound I wanted to hear was unmistakably a single bullet lodging itself into the concrete. It could only mean one thing.

"Crap, Sniper," I growled. We sprinted across to another building and then another, close enough to get within striking distance.

Upon further sweeping of the building, I discovered it was inhabited by raiders. I did not have time for this. The firefights were brutal sometimes but VATS was a godsent. Instant casualty minimization technology was at our fingertips. It made our lives a hell of a lot easier than if we would've gone in without it. It was a good day for looting as I found a machine pistol on one of them. I gave that one to Megan; I wanted a shotgun or a sniper rifle.

As soon as I fought my way to the fourth floor, I waited for that one perfect shot. Even with VATS compensating heavily for it, I was far enough where gravity took over. Damn, I should have picked up a laser; gravity sure as hell doesn't affect light. I held my breath, pulled the trigger, and left it all to VATS. Thankfully, I saw the bullets rocket straight through his torso, his body falling and hitting the earth with a dull thud. He must've been just has high as we were.

I ran outside and over the piles of rubble to find his face had taken a 50 foot dive into solid rock. It looked terrible. That fall easily snapped his neck but it didn't snap the DKS-501 sniper rifle he had on him, thank god. Megan couldn't bear to look at it and I was no mood to look at carnage as well. I stole it off of him and moved on without any second thoughts.

Not even a few minutes after that we were caught up in another sniper battle. Compared to the last guy, our foe was probably much smarter. Even though we found some sturdy cover in the adjacent buildings, I couldn't help but think he was breathing down our necks or something. As I tried to figure out where the bastard was located, I heard a dull thud. I caught a quick glance before I realized he was targeting the damn cars. One of them was already in flames. Holy shit. It was going to explode any minute!

"Get inside!" I shouted to Megan.

I bolted inside, immediately hit the floor, and shoved her head down with me. The fragile glass blew out with a deafening crash and the wave of heat and light seared over our bodies. My body tried its best resisted to give in; I know I couldn't afford to.

We hopped from building to building as the situation got worse all around us. I was starting to get some satisfaction for this rush of adrenaline but at the same time, I was beginning to grow weary of combat. It was only there to frustrate me until I gave up. All combat served was to keep me from dying, or so I thought.

I bolted across the street and underneath the tattered banners that once proudly displayed victories that didn't matter anymore. They were just as meaningless as the people that lived here. There was a lull in the gunfire. We were safe, at least for now. Trying to clear this place out was damn near impossible. There could be a lot of stupid assholes that could jump out of nowhere, especially through the holes in the ruins.

We wandered though the twisted maze of the collapsed mess of brick, steel, and wood. "This is a fucking tinderbox waiting to happen," I said.

Megan didn't respond, instead idling with her weapon. As we walked around, I kept having a nagging feeling that it was going to collapse at any minute. The last remaining supports heaved and groaned like a beast was ready to tip over. The steel supports buckled and snapped as if we were the only ones they were going to let through. The longer we stayed inside, the longer it became a death trap.

"Look Todd, there's an exit," Megan pointed out.

I followed her out of the exit, which led us to a richly overgrown field of weeds. Looking around, I got a sense of how lucky we really were, somehow managing to get through that without having our limbs cut off or enduring another firefight. The Nuka-Cola and the Button Gwinett signs were smashed like most things were, violently. What remained of the metal structures that once supported lights became a swamp of sharp steel to block us from reaching the only visible way out, a big gaping hole in left field.

"Todd, there's something in the middle of the field."

I looked toward the mound of earth and she was right. I inched closer to it. "Stay back. I don't know what the hell this is."

I was expecting a land mine but instead I found a holotape. And it was addressed to, Todd and Megan? Hell, even I didn't expect to receive any goddamn presents. Thinking there was probably a mine under that, I prodded and flipped it over with my long metal guns. No boom. It seemed to be safe.

With curious hands, I stuck it into my PIP-BOY.

"If you have found this tape, at least I know that you're alive. I hoped to increase that chance by clearing out the place of a bit of ghouls. I don't think I got them all but I hope you didn't run into any trouble." it began. Holy shit. It was dad! Finally something! We were on the edge of our seats, if we could sit down.

"First of all, you're probably about three days or so behind me, as I'm beginning to head into the wild red hellhole of Boston. For your own good, give up and don't follow or look for me. You don't know what you're getting into, insipid Vault dwellers. You shouldn't have escaped in the first place."

"What the hell is he thinking?" I wondered. I'm his fucking son! Of course I have to go look for him! What a heartless son-of-a-bitch for saying that.

"But I'm guessing since you already did escape, there's no point of me stabbing a dead horse." He sighed, "Megan, it seems I reluctantly must owe you a long overdue apology. Jordan, your wonderful overseer," it dripped with wonderful sarcasm, "did not kill your father. I did."

"What?!" Megan collapsed, clenching the earth with her bare hands. "No! I trusted your father! How the fuck-"

"If that message did not sink in as well the first time around, I'll be kind enough to repeat it again. I killed your father. It was me, not the overseer. Single shot to the head. He wouldn't have known what the hell happened to him."

Megan took out her pistol and pointed it between my eyes, the barrel touching the middle of my forehead. I suddenly pushed the pause button it right there. One look at her face and it was obvious. Her eyes were twisted and red with pain, anger, and desperation.

"Megan, please put the gun away," I tried to reason with her. If I were in that position, I'd react the same way.

"Not until you promise me if you do run across him, you'll kill him."

Even though I wouldn't hesitate to kill a murderer, he was still my father. I couldn't kill my dad so easily. I tried reasoning with her some more. "Look, Megan- "

"HE KILLED MY FATHER, JACKASS!!"

I caught a glance at my PIPBOY and noticed the holotape was only in the beginning in spilling its nasty secrets. It could only get worse from here, and maybe it could defuse this situation as well.

"Just let me finish the tape," I said calmly, trying to mask any hint of hostility.

"As for my son… Well to be honest, you were never really my son to begin with. You were too young to remember but you arrived at the Vault just barely able to walk and talk. You choked crap of the wasteland even before you learned to cry for milk. You've grown up a lot since then."

He… he lied! Goddamn it! I was always told I was born in the Vault! So that's what my life was now, the biggest fucking lie in the world! I was definitely angry at him for covering it up for all these years, but I guess it was marginally understandable at best. Punching him in the face when I would reunite with him seemed like a good idea.

"I don't know where in the wasteland you two were born, but you might as well claim here. Fenway Park. Or what's left of it. That's where we found you two on a walk in the park, albeit on opposite ends of the stadium. The two of us lost in a dice game. We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into, adopting kids from the wasteland, mating with other vault dwellers, producing half-breeds."

Half-breed. That word stabbed through me. As if I was any less significant for being born outside the Vault. It was like we were bought and sold like objects.

"I couldn't help but feel sympathetic to you poor bastards of the wasteland but unfortunately, my feelings only run so deep. I've had fun but 20 years is much too long for me to play nice. Now if you'll kindly go find a mutie to bash both of your fucking heads open, the world will be a much better place."

It beeped. Finally, it was my turn to be devastated down to my core. Megan wordlessly put away her gun, finally realizing I was brought down the same level as she was. I wanted to punch something but I couldn't do it to her. Marching to the middle of the field, I knelt down and punched one of the rusted metal beams. It was once strong and shiny before but it crumbled and shattered with just a touch. Just like us.

I felt a body press up against my back. It had to be her. She needed me as I needed someone right now. "Todd, I'm so sorry," she said apologetically.

I stood up and embraced her like she did to me. "No, you don't have to be," I said. "He doesn't deserve to be anyone's dad anymore. I will find him and I will kill him."

That was a promise I could certainly keep.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_

_

* * *

_

For those who do care about realism, the T-51b specs are mentioned in the holotape, Power Armor Specs. It is capable of "absorbing over 2,500 Joules of kinetic impact," placing it near a Level III body armor. That means it can easily defeat 5.56x45mm NATO (~1,796J) and 7.62x39mm (~2,059J) Full Metal Jacket rounds. Only the most powerful of ammunition can penetrate power armor. The only ammunition that should ever cause any damage to power armor in Fallout 3 would be the .308.

_Thanks to sunfire130 for favoriting! As you can see, it has been re-rated M for safety and because of more violence I want to add. I'm still doing revisions of earlier chapters and storyline but progress is slow at best. Sorry for the inconsistencies. Please read and review. Constructive criticism appreciated!  
_


End file.
